What about the two of us ___________ a walk after supper?

A. to take           B. take    C. taking     D . to be taking

根据短文内容，从短文后的选项中选出能填入空白处的最佳选项。选项中有两项为多余选项。

Invitation

A woman came out of her house and saw three old men with long white beards sitting in her front yard. She thought they were hungry and invited them in to have something to eat.

They refused because her husband was out.

  71 “Go to tell them I am home and invite them in!” The woman went out and invited them in. “We do not go into a House together,” they replied. “Why is that?” she wanted to know.

One of the old men explained: “His name is Wealth,” he said pointing to one of his friends, and said pointing to another one, “He is Success, and I am Love.” Then he added, “Now go in and discuss with your husband which one of us you want in your home.”

The woman went in and told her husband what was said. Her husband was overjoyed. He said “  72  Let him come and fill in our home with wealth!”

His wife disagreed. “My dear, why don’t we invite Success?” Their daughter-in-law was listening from the other corner of the house. She jumped in with her own suggestion: “Would it not be better to invite Love?   73 ”

The woman went out and asked the three old men, “Which one of you is Love? Please come in and be our guest.”

Love got up and started walking toward the house.  74  Surprised, the lady asked Wealth and Success: “I only invited Love. Why are you coming in?”

The old men replied together: “If you had invited Wealth or Success, the other two of us would’ve stayed out, but since you invited Love, wherever he goes, we go with him.  75 ”

E.         Wherever there is Love, there is also Wealth and Success!

F.         He loved money badly.

G.        Let us invite Wealth.

A year after graduation, I was offered a position teaching a writing class. Teaching was a profession I had never seriously considered, though several of my stories had been published. I accepted the job without hesitation, as it would allow me to wear a tie and go by the name of Mr. Davis. My father went by the same name, and I liked to imagine people getting the two of us confused. “Wait a minute,” someone might say, “are talking about Mr. Davis the retired man, or Mr. Davis the respectable scholar?”
The position was offered at the last minute, and I was given two week to prepare, a period I spent searching for a briefcase and standing before my full-length mirror, repeating the words, “Hello, class, I’m Mr. Davis.” Sometimes I would give myself an aggressive voice. Sometimes I would sound experienced. But when the day eventually came, my nerves kicked in and the true Mr. Davis was there. I sounded not like a thoughtful professor, but rather a 12-year-old boy.
I arrived in the classroom with paper cards designed in the shape of maple leaves. I had cut them myself out of orange construction paper. I saw nine students along a long table. I handed out the cards, and the students wrote down their names and fastened them to their breast pockets as I required.
“All right then,” I said. “Okay, here we go.” Then I opened my briefcase and realized that I had never thought beyond this moment. I had been thinking that the students would be the first to talk, offering their thoughts and opinions on the events of the day. I had imagined that I would sit on the edge of the desk, overlooking a forest of raised hands. Every student would shout to be heard, and I would knock on something in order to silence them. I would yell, “Calm down, you’ll all get your turn. One at a time, one at a time!”
A terrible silence ruled the room, and seeing no other opinions, I instructed the students to pull out their notebooks and write a brief essay related to the theme of deep disappointment.
【小题1】The author took the job to teach writing because______________.

My mind seems always to return to the day when I met Carl. The city bus stopped at a corner to pick up the daily commuters (someone who travels regularly to and from work), a group in which I was included. Boarding the bus, I looked for a place to sit. At last, I found a place near the back.

The man in the seat next to the one I was going for was an older man in a grey suit, well-worn dress shoes, and a black hat like I always pictured reporters wearing, but without the little press card. Seated, I began to read the book I had been carrying, which was Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. The man in the seat next to me introduced himself by asking if I had read any other book like the one I was holding. When I told him I had, he seemed to become interested, and so did I. He introduced himself as Carl and asked if I liked jazz, and I told him that I didn’t really listen to it, and that I liked rock and roll. Waiting for Carl to tell me that I should listen to real music, I was shocked when he just smiled and nodded. He said, "You remind me of myself when I was your age. I remember how my parents hated jazz and how they couldn’t see how I could listen to that awful noise. I bet your parents say the same thing, don’t they?" Now it was my turn to smile, amused with how right he was.

As the bus carried us from one side of the city to the other, Carl and I talked about a lot of different things. The more we talked, the more amazed I became at how much the two of us really had in common, despite the age difference. I haven’t seen him since we parted, but the thought of our connection that day rarely leaves my mind.

       Carl really made me think about how much we can learn from each other if we just break through the blocks between us we’ve got. I mean, I would have never thought before that day that I could have anything in common with someone so much older than I. But Carl taught me that no matter what we are, we are all just people, and that we should make an extra effort to try and get to know our neighbors and people we see every day, regardless of age, race, religion, sex, or anything else. If we all take the time to attempt to understand each other, I think that the world would be a much better place that we could share together, as humans.

1.From the first paragraph we know that the author _____________.

A. did not mind whether there was a seat or not

B. hoped to have a seat when getting on the bus

C. thought the bus was overcrowded

D. looked for a seat but failed

2.The author usually imagined a reporter as one who _____________.

A. liked jazz music

B. enjoyed talking with others

C. liked reading Jack Kerouac’s works

D. usually wore a black hat and press card

3. After talking with Carl, the author realized that _____________.

A. older people were nice to talk to

B. he should have known Carl earlier

C. his parents were so different from Carl in listening to music

D. age was not necessarily a problem in heart-to-heart communication

4.It can be inferred from the passage that _________.

A. the author hasn’t seen the old man since then

B. jazz music used to be more popular than rock and roll

C. the author was not satisfied with human relationships in the world

D. Carl made the author realize we humans live in peace and brotherhood

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.

I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.

There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.

A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.

Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.

I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”

He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.

I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.

When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.

I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.

“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.

At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!

“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.

Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.

Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.

No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.

1.The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

2.What do we know about the author and the man sitting next to him?

3.On this journey on The Flying Bluebird, the author felt uncomfortable because ___________.

4.It can be learned from Para. 10 that the author was afraid that ____________.

5.The noise in the underlined sentence “a noise started above our heads”（Para.15）was made by __________.

6.What would be the best title for the text?