A strange woman comes to my door one day in early March.It’s a rich area so we often have people selling things door to door，dusters，make?up，frozen foods—but she doesn’t look like a professional saleswoman.She hasn’t got the patter(喋喋不休) either.She just smiles shyly and puts a card in my hand：“Amy Turner.Pet Portraits Undertaken.”

I run my fingernail along the cheap gold edge of the card and look at her，waiting for an explanation.

“I’ll paint any animal in the comfort of your own home.”Amy Turner says.“Wouldn’t you like a nice picture of your loved one？I’ve had experience of dogs，cats，parrots，prize bulls...”

“Prize bulls！”I can’t help looking up and down our street.The thought of any of my neighbours keeping bulls in their back gardens makes me smile.

“I don’t have any animals，”I say as we look past each other.She must be wishing some little cat or dog would come running down the hall to give the game away and it is the first chance I’ve had to smell the air outside.It is one of those spring mornings when you wake up and find winter’s gone.Even the camellia in the garden opposite has flowered overnight，pink blossoms which look shocking against the quiet greens and greys.

“Why are you still in your dressing gown？”Amy says，turning her attention back to me.“It’s nearly lunchtime.Are you ill？”

“I’m fine，”I lie.I’m not going to tell a stranger I’ve just been sick in the toilet upstairs and would still be sticking my fingers down my throat if the doorbell hadn’t rung.But now I’m not sure what to do next.Amy is still standing there.She_doesn’t_seem_to_think_that_not_having_a_pet_is

_a_good_enough_excuse.

“I’m starving.”she says and I smile politely，nodding the way you do before you say goodbye.

“No，”she puts her foot in the door.“I’m really starving.I’ve had nothing to eat for two days and no one has any pets for me to paint.I need some food or I’ll faint，right here on your doorstep.”

I stand to one side and let her in.

1．According to the text，what does a professional saleswoman usually do?

A．Sells things door to door with her cards.

B．Never puts a card into people’s hands.

C．Tries to talk people into buying her things.

D．Smiles，hands her cards and walks away.

2．What does the underlined word “one” in the third paragraph stand for?

A．Dog. 　　　　B．Child.　　　　　 C．Pet. 　　　　　D．Cat.

3．From the text we know that Amy is a ________.

A．young baby?sitter 　 B．poor beggar　 C．professional salesgirl D．poor painter

4．What does the writer mean by saying “She doesn’t seem to think that not having a pet is a good enough excuse.”？

A．It seems that she doesn’t want to leave.

B．She wants the writer to give another excuse.

C．She is sure there is a pet in the house.

D．She thinks that not having a pet is a bad thing.

When Carrie Conley’s husband left in the early 1960s, she started raising six children on her own. She took a job at a hospital, delivering meals to patients as what was called “a tray girl” .

Jerry Johnson, the youngest child in the family, was 5 years old when his dad left. Speaking with his mother recently, Johnson heard his mother repeat the question she asked at that time. “Lord, what am I going to do with all these kids by myself?” The answers came in the form of lima beans, black-eyed peas and low prices on chicken necks. “Something to boil for every day of the week,” Conley said.

“I cannot remember one Christmas that I didn’t feel like the luckiest kid in the world,” Johnson said, “even though now I realize we has hardly anything in terms of money.”

“How did you hold all that together?” he asked his mother.

Conley said she would save up her sick days at work, going in no matter how she felt. Then in December, the company would pay her for the unused sick days. More help came in castoffs(废弃物)，when wealthy families would clean out their toy chests at Christmastime and take a load of toys to the Salvation Army. Conley would pick through them, finding the best ones for her children. The result of those sacrifices led to a big, happy Christmas for Conley and her kids.

“But I never did tell you it was a Santa Claus,” Conley said, “I couldn’t give any man credit for what I had done.”

Johnson thanked his mom for her sacrifices, and for the good example she set for him and his siblings. “I think it’s helping us all be better parents,” Johnson said.

56. How did Johnson feel about Christmas when he was a kid?

   A. Awful     B. Disappointed    C. Pleased     D. Indifferent

57. How did Conley struggle to send the children Christmas gifts?

   A. By begging rich families to help

   B. By picking up gifts of low prices

   C. By visiting the Salvation Army

   D. By helping clean out toy chests

58. The underlined part in Paragraph 6 shows that Conley_______?

   A. didn’t believe in God then

   B. was proud of what she did

   C. was complaining about her bad luck

   D. wasn’t willing to ask others for help

59. From the passage we can know that _____.

   A. Conley had great influence on her kids

   B. Conley was an optimistic but stubborn woman

   C. Johnson landed a job in Conley’s company finally

   D. Johnson sensed his mother’s despair when he was young

Some people seem easy to understand：their character appears obvious on first meeting. Appearances, however, can be deceptive. For thirty years now I have been studying my fellowmen. I don’t know very much about them. I shrug my shoulders when people tell me that their first impressions of a person are always right. I think they must have small insight or great vanity. For my own part I find that the longer I know people, the more they puzzle me.

I read in this morning's paper that Edward Hyde Burton had died. He was a merchant and he had been in business in Japan for many years.Once he gave me a great surprise. Unless I had heard the story from his own lips, I’d never have velieved that he was capable of such an action. He was always neatly and quietly dressed in accordance with his age and position. He didn’t talk much, but what he said was sensible. Tou couldn’;t imagine he’d possible raise his voice in anger. Here was a man who attracted you because you felt in him a real love for his fellows. He’d tell with point a good and spicy story, and in his youth he’d been something of an athete. He was a rich man and he’d made every penny himself. I suppose one thing that made you like him was that he was so weak; he arounsed your instinets（本能）of protection. TYou felt he couldn’t bear to hurt a fly.

       One afternoon Burton told me a “funny” story in a quiet, dry humour:

        “There was a namesake（同名人）of mine, who was the best bridge player I ever met. He  seemed to  have a fantastic instinct about the cards. I used to play with him a lot.”

“He was handsome in a way with curly hair and pink-and- white cleeks. Women thought a lot of him. There was no harm in him, he was only wild. Pf course he drank too much. He won a good deal of my money by card-playing.”

“One day he came to me when he went broke. He came to see me in my office and asked me for a job. I asked him how old he was.

“’Thirty-five’, he said.”

       "'And what have you been doing hitherto?' I asked him.

       "'Well, nothing very much,' he said.

       "'I'm afraid I can't do anything for you just yet,' I said. 'Come back and see me in another thirty-five years, and I'll see what I can do.'

"He didn't move. He went rather pale. He hesitated for a moment and then he told me that he had had bad luck at cards for some time. He hadn't been willing to stick to bridge, he'd been playing poker, and he'd got trimmed. He hadn't a penny. He'd pawned everything he had. He couldn't pay his hotel bill and they wouldn't give him any more credit. He was down and out. If he couldn't get something to do he'd have to commit suicide.

"I looked at him for a bit. I could see now that he was all to pieces. He'd been drinking more than usual and he looked fifty. The girls wouldn't have thought so much of him if they'd seen him then.

"I got some glimmering of what he was driving at. I've known too many men who were little tin gods at their university.

 “Suddenly I had an idea.” Pausing in his story, Burton turned to me. “When I was young I swam over three miles round the beacon（灯塔）and landed at the river of Tarumi. It’s rather difficult on account of the currents round the beacon. Well, I told my young fellow about it and I said that if he’d do it I’d give him a job.

“I could see he was rather taken aback. He was not in good condition for sports. He looked at me for a moment and then he nodded.”

“I told him I’d drive round to the river at half past twelve and meet him.

       "Done,"he said.

“I wished him good luck and he left me.I had a lot of work to do that morning and I only just managed to the creek at Tarumi at half past twelve.But I needn't have hurried;he never turned up

       “Did he funk it at the last moment?” I asked.

“No,he didn't funk it. He started all right. But of course he'd ruined his constitution by drink. The currents round the beacon were more than he could manage. We didn't get the body for about three days

I didn't say anything for a moment or two.I was a trifle shocked.Then I asked.

       “When you made him that offer of a job, did you know he'd be drowned?'

       He looked at me with his kind blue eyes, smiling. "Well,I hadn't got a vacancy in my office at the moment.'

55．The author believes         .

       A．some people are too easy to understand

       B．appearance is just opposite to the quality

       C．first impressions can be misleading

       D．his fellowmen are not understandable

56．For some time, Edward Burton impressed the author most with his        .

      A．age and position                                   B．wealth and ability

       C．sensibility and humor                           D．kindness and weakness

57．The underlined words “he was all to picces” may mean         .

       A．he was mad and wild                           B．he was completely down

       C．he was sick and dirty                           D．he was totally drunk

58．We can infer from Burton’s story that his namesakes         .

       A．never saw through his trick                  B．annoyed him by playing cards

       C．could not do any job well                      D．intended to cheat him with a lie

59．We learned from the story that Edward Burton       .

      A．knew the young man would kill himself

       B．arranged the end of his namesake’s life

       C．did much for the poor fellowman

       D．killed his card-friend by mistake

60．Edward Burton could be described as a(n)     person.

       A．innocent              B．smart                  C．careless               D．evil

When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found enough to make a rich strike. But I did discover a beautiful part of the country called Stanislau. Like Heaven on Earth, it had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees. By the time I arrived, the charming paradise had been deserted because miners’ good luck didn’t last.

Then, I realized I was not alone after all.

A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of his little house. Its front yard was full of blue and yellow flowers. White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.

Still smiling, the man invited me inside. My spirit seemed to come to life again. I saw a bright rug on the shining wooden floor. And on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home. The delight in my heart showed on my face. The man read my thoughts. “All her work.” He said affectionately, “Nothing here hasn’t felt the touch of her hand.”

One picture on the wall was not hanging straight. He went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was straight. Then he gave it a gentle touch. “She always does that,” he explained, “It is like the finishing pat a mother gives her child’s hair after she has brushed it. I don’t know why I do it. I just do it.”

As he talked, I went to a little black-walnut shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There was a sweetness and softness in the woman’s expression. The man stared at the picture. “Nineteen her last birthday. That was the day we married. When you see her...ah, just wait until you meet her!” “Where is she now?” I asked. “Oh, she is away visiting her parents. This is Wednesday,” he said slowly. “She will be back on Saturday, in the evening.”

That night, I stayed. The man told me his name was Henry.

Thursday evening we had two visitors, Tom and Joe. “We just drop over to ask when little madam is coming home. Any news from her?” “Oh yes,” the man replied. “A letter.” He took a yellowed letter out of his wallet and read it. It was full of loving messages. While reading, he glimpsed his friends and cried out, “Oh no, you are doing it again, Tom! Take your hands away and let me see your eyes. I’m going to tell her this time!” “No, you mustn’t do that, Henry,” the grey-haired miner said. “I am getting old. And any little sorrow makes me cry. Lord, we miss her so.”

Saturday finally came.

I was glad to see his two friends, Tom and Joe, with guitars, coming down the road as the sun began to set. They put the flowers they brought in vases and began to play some fast and lively songs.

Henry’s friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey. When I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, Tom stopped my arm. “Drop that! Take the other.” he whispered. I did so. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his drink when the clock struck midnight. His face grew pale and paler. “Boys,” he said, “I am sick with fear. Help! I want to lie down.” Henry was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth.

In a moment, those handy men had his clothes off and tucked him into his bed. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. So I said, “Please don’t go, gentlemen. She won’t know me. I am a stranger.” They glanced at each other. Then Joe said, “She? Poor thing, she’s been dead nineteen years!” “Dead?” I whispered. “That or worse.” he said.

“She went to see her folks half a year after she got married. On her way back, on a Saturday evening in June, when she was almost here, the Indians captured her. She’s never been heard of since. Henry went insane. But he only gets bad when that time of year comes round. Then we drop in here, three days before she’s due, to encourage him up and listen to him read the letter. Saturday we all come and get everything ready for a dance. We’ve done it for nineteen years. The first Saturday there were twenty-seven of us, but only two now. We drug him to sleep through the night. Then he’s all right for another year.”

The two old men opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of Stanislau.

1.You can sense the existence of a woman from the following sentences EXCEPT “______”.

A. Soft winds touched the trees in Stanislau.

B. There was a bright rug on the shining wooden floor.

C. There were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers.

D. A little black shelf held a small picture of a woman.

2.Tom cried when Henry read the yellowed letter, because ______.

A. he was getting older and older

B. he was moved by the loving messages in the letter

C. he felt sad at the thought of Henry’s wife

D. he was disappointed that Henry’s wife would arrive so late

3.Tom stopped my reaching for whiskey because ______.

A. there was not enough whiskey for Henry                B. he didn’t want me to get drunk

C. that glass of whiskey was drugged                    D. it was for Henry’s wife

4.The underlined word “insane” probably means “______”.

A. depressed                   B. disappointed            C. mad                 D. sick

5.It can be inferred from the passage that ______.

A. Henry’s wife was 38 when she was last seen

B. Tom and Joe have heard the letter many times

C. the author stayed in Henry’s house because he was lost

D. the two miners came on Saturday to share past memories

6.The story is mainly about ______.

A. ever-lasting love                                                      B. lifelong friendship

C. an unforgettable experience                                               D. charming Stanislau

When I was young, I went looking for gold in California. I never found enough to make a rich strike. But I did discover a beautiful part of the country called Stanislau. Like Heaven on Earth, it had bright green hills and deep forests where soft winds touched the trees. By the time I arrived, the charming paradise had been deserted because miners’ good luck didn’t last.

Then, I realized I was not alone after all.

A man was smiling at me as he stood in front of his little house. Its front yard was full of blue and yellow flowers. White curtains hung from the windows and floated in the soft summer wind.

Still smiling, the man invited me inside. My spirit seemed to come to life again. I saw a bright rug on the shining wooden floor. And on little tables there were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers. A woman had made this house into a home. The delight in my heart showed on my face. The man read my thoughts. “All her work.” He said affectionately, “Nothing here hasn’t felt the touch of her hand.”

One picture on the wall was not hanging straight. He went to fix it. He stepped back several times to make sure the picture was straight. Then he gave it a gentle touch. “She always does that,” he explained, “It is like the finishing pat a mother gives her child’s hair after she has brushed it. I don’t know why I do it. I just do it.”

As he talked, I went to a little black-walnut shelf that held a small picture of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. There was a sweetness and softness in the woman’s expression. The man stared at the picture. “Nineteen her last birthday. That was the day we married. When you see her...ah, just wait until you meet her!” “Where is she now?” I asked. “Oh, she is away visiting her parents. This is Wednesday,” he said slowly. “She will be back on Saturday, in the evening.”

That night, I stayed. The man told me his name was Henry.

Thursday evening we had two visitors, Tom and Joe. “We just drop over to ask when little madam is coming home. Any news from her?” “Oh yes,” the man replied. “A letter.” He took a yellowed letter out of his wallet and read it. It was full of loving messages. While reading, he glimpsed his friends and cried out, “Oh no, you are doing it again, Tom! Take your hands away and let me see your eyes. I’m going to tell her this time!” “No, you mustn’t do that, Henry,” the grey-haired miner said. “I am getting old. And any little sorrow makes me cry. Lord, we miss her so.”

Saturday finally came.

I was glad to see his two friends, Tom and Joe, with guitars, coming down the road as the sun began to set. They put the flowers they brought in vases and began to play some fast and lively songs.

Henry’s friends kept giving him glasses of whiskey. When I reached for one of the two remaining glasses, Tom stopped my arm. “Drop that! Take the other.” he whispered. I did so. Henry was served last. He had hardly swallowed his drink when the clock struck midnight. His face grew pale and paler. “Boys,” he said, “I am sick with fear. Help! I want to lie down.” Henry was asleep almost before the words were out of his mouth.

In a moment, those handy men had his clothes off and tucked him into his bed. They seemed to be getting ready to leave. So I said, “Please don’t go, gentlemen. She won’t know me. I am a stranger.” They glanced at each other. Then Joe said, “She? Poor thing, she’s been dead nineteen years!” “Dead?” I whispered. “That or worse.” he said.

“She went to see her folks half a year after she got married. On her way back, on a Saturday evening in June, when she was almost here, the Indians captured her. She’s never been heard of since. Henry went insane. But he only gets bad when that time of year comes round. Then we drop in here, three days before she’s due, to encourage him up and listen to him read the letter. Saturday we all come and get everything ready for a dance. We’ve done it for nineteen years. The first Saturday there were twenty-seven of us, but only two now. We drug him to sleep through the night. Then he’s all right for another year.”

The two old men opened the door and disappeared into the darkness of Stanislau.

55. You can sense the existence of a woman from the following sentences EXCEPT “______”.

A. Soft winds touched the trees in Stanislau.

B. There was a bright rug on the shining wooden floor.

C. There were seashells, books and china vases full of flowers.

D. A little black shelf held a small picture of a woman.

56. Tom cried when Henry read the yellowed letter, because ______.

A. he was getting older and older

B. he was moved by the loving messages in the letter

C. he felt sad at the thought of Henry’s wife

D. he was disappointed that Henry’s wife would arrive so late

57. Tom stopped my reaching for whiskey because ______.

A. there was not enough whiskey for Henry          B. he didn’t want me to get drunk

C. that glass of whiskey was drugged                  D. it was for Henry’s wife

58. The underlined word “insane” probably means “______”.

A. depressed                B. disappointed       C. mad            D. sick

59. It can be inferred from the passage that ______.

A. Henry’s wife was 38 when she was last seen

B. Tom and Joe have heard the letter many times

C. the author stayed in Henry’s house because he was lost

D. the two miners came on Saturday to share past memories

60. The story is mainly about ______.

A. ever-lasting love                                         B. lifelong friendship

C. an unforgettable experience                             D. charming Stanislau