"Air!" said North, contemptuously. "Do you call this air?--this muggy vapor, smelling of garbage and gasoline smoke. Man, I wish you could get one sniff of the real Adirondack article in the pine woods at daylight."英文原著 · 《Options》
At last he reached the wood and bounded on, trampling down long trailing grasses and tangled weeds through the thick, muggy gloom of those endless aisles of jungle. He came to a somewhat open space where there was the trunk of a tree larger than the others; it stood by itself and disappeared into the tangle of creepers above. He thought he would climb the tree, but the trunk was too wide, and his efforts failed. He stood by the tree trembling and panting with fear. He could not hear a sound, but he felt that the danger, whatever it was, was at hand.英文原著 · 《Orpheus in Mayfair and Other》
Always he was in readiness to ride. She passed out and called him into the huge, dim hall. "I think you'll be safer here. The court is too open," she said. "I reckon," replied Lassiter. "An' it's cooler here. The day's sure muggy. Well, I went down to the village with Venters."
"Already!英文原著 · 《Riders of the Purple Sage》
Her brain moved just half as slowly as everything else. That winter was warm and muggy, with continuous showers of warm rain that seamed to change into mud in the air as it fell. The Church was filled with the clammy mist of its central heating. Maggie, as she sat through service after service, watched one headache race after another. The air was full of headache; she asked once that a window might be kept open. "That would mean Death in Skeaton. You don't understand the Skeaton air," said Grace. "That's because I don't get enough of it," said Maggie.英文原著 · 《The Captives》
On the top of the next little ridge Hare heard Silvermane snort as he did when led to drink. There was a scent of water on the wind. Hare caught it, a damp, muggy smell. The sheep had noticed it long before, and now under its nearer, stronger influence began to bleat wildly, to run faster, to crowd without aim.英文原著 · 《The Heritage of the Desert》
"If so, said lark must be roasted to a turn," declared the third (and last) member of that little party, drawing a curved forefinger across his forehead, then flirting aside sundry drops of moisture. "I can't recall such another muggy afternoon, and if we were only back in what the scientists term the cyclone belt--"英文原著 · 《The Lost City》