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Pete Richards was the loneliest man in town on the day that little Jean Grace opened the door of his shop.
Pete's grandfather had owned the shop until his death. Then the shop became Pete's. The front window was full of beautiful old things: jewelry of a hundred years ago, gold and silver boxes, carved figures from China and Japan and other nations.
On this winter afternoon, a child stood there, her face close to the window. With large and serious eyes, she studied each piece in the window. Then, looking pleased, she stepped back from the window and went into the shop. Pete himself stood behind the counter. His eyes were cold as he looked at the small girl. “Please,” she began, “would you let me look at the pretty string of blue beads in the window?” Pete took the string of blue beads from the window. The beads were beautiful against his hand as he held the necklace up for her to see.
“They are just right,” said the child as though she were alone with the beads. “Will you wrap them up in pretty paper for me, please? I've been looking for a really wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have?” asked Pete.
She put a handful of pennies on the counter. “This is all I have,” she explained simply. “I've been saving the money for my sister's present.”
Pete looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. Then he carefully closed his hand over the price mark on the necklace so that she could not see it. How could he tell her the price? The happy look in her big blue eyes struck him like the pain of an old wound.
“Just a minute,” he said and went to the back of the shop. “What's your name?” he called out. He was very busy about something.
“Jean Grace,” answered the child.
When Pete returned to the front of the shop, he held a package in his hand. It was wrapped in pretty Christmas paper.
“There you are,” he said. “Don't lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily at him as she ran out of the door. Through the window he watched her go. He felt more alone than ever.
Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had made him feel once more the pain of his old grief. The child's hair was as yellow as the sunlight; her eyes were as blue as the sea. Once upon a time, Pete had loved a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the necklace of blue stones had been meant for her.
But one rainy night, a car had gone off the road and struck the girl. After she died, Pete felt that he had nothing left in the world except his grief. The blue eyes of Jean Grace brought him out of that world of self-pity and made him remember again all that he had lost. The pain of remembering was so great that Pete wanted to run away from the happy Christmas shoppers who came to look at his beautiful old things during the next ten days.
When the last shopper had gone, late on Christmas Eve, the door opened and a young woman came in. Pete could not understand it, but he felt that he had seen her before. Her hair was sunlight yellow and her eyes were sea-blue. Without speaking, she put on the counter a package wrapped in pretty Christmas paper. When Pete opened the package, the string of blue beads lay again before him.
“Did this come from your shop?” she asked.
Pete looked at her with eyes no longer cold. “Yes, it did,” he said.
“Are the stones real?”
“Yes. They aren't the best turquoise(绿松石), but they are real.”
“Can you remember to whom you sold them?”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She wanted them for her sister's Christmas present.”
“How much were they?”
“I can't tell you that,” he said. “The seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies. How could she pay for them?”
“She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” he said.
For a moment there was no sound in the little shop. Then somewhere in the city, church bells began to ring. It was midnight and the beginning of another Christmas Day.
“But why did you do it?” the girl asked.
Pete put the package into her hands.
“There is no one else to whom I can give a Christmas present,” he said. “It is already Christmas morning. Will you let me take you to your home? I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas at your door.”
And so, to the sound of many bells, Pete Richards and a girl whose name he had not yet learned walked out into the hope and happiness of a new Christmas Day.
1.When Pete saw Jean Grace, he was ______.
A. very enthusiastic, hoping for some business to be done
B. cold but he still served the young customer
C. cold, unwilling to serve the young customer
D. very warm to the young customer though he did not want to sell anything to her
2.Pete did not say the price of the necklace because ______.
A. the seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays
B. he priced the necklace too high
C. he knew it would disappoint the girl
D. he didn't want to sell the necklace
3.The eyes of Jean Grace brought Pete out of his world of self-pity and he ______.
A. tried to forget the memory of his sweetheart
B. began to look at the world optimistically
C. remembered his lost love
D. no longer felt the pain in him
4.A young woman came into the shop because ______.
A. she was afraid that there might be some mistake
B. she thought that the stones she had bought were not real
C. she was not sure if she could get more stones like those
D. she did not like what she had once bought
5.By saying “She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” Pete meant that Jean Grace .
A. gave the most money for the necklace
B. gave all she had with her for the necklace
C. appreciated the value of the necklace
D. wanted to have the best thing in the shop
6. At the end of the story we see that Pete _____.
A. found another girl that he could trust
B. met someone who truly loved him
C. found a place to go at last
D. regained his ability to love
查看习题详情和答案>>
Pete Richards was the loneliest man in town on the day that little Jean Grace opened the door of his shop.
Pete's grandfather had owned the shop until his death. Then the shop became Pete's. The front window was full of beautiful old things: jewelry of a hundred years ago, gold and silver boxes, carved figures from China and Japan and other nations.
On this winter afternoon, a child stood there, her face close to the window. With large and serious eyes, she studied each piece in the window. Then, looking pleased, she stepped back from the window and went into the shop. Pete himself stood behind the counter. His eyes were cold as he looked at the small girl. “Please,” she began, “would you let me look at the pretty string of blue beads in the window?” Pete took the string of blue beads from the window. The beads were beautiful against his hand as he held the necklace up for her to see.
“They are just right,” said the child as though she were alone with the beads. “Will you wrap them up in pretty paper for me, please? I've been looking for a really wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have?” asked Pete.
She put a handful of pennies on the counter. “This is all I have,” she explained simply. “I've been saving the money for my sister's present.”
Pete looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. Then he carefully closed his hand over the price mark on the necklace so that she could not see it. How could he tell her the price? The happy look in her big blue eyes struck him like the pain of an old wound.
“Just a minute,” he said and went to the back of the shop. “What's your name?” he called out. He was very busy about something.
“Jean Grace,” answered the child.
When Pete returned to the front of the shop, he held a package in his hand. It was wrapped in pretty Christmas paper.
“There you are,” he said. “Don't lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily at him as she ran out of the door. Through the window he watched her go. He felt more alone than ever.
Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had made him feel once more the pain of his old grief. The child's hair was as yellow as the sunlight; her eyes were as blue as the sea. Once upon a time, Pete had loved a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the necklace of blue stones had been meant for her.
But one rainy night, a car had gone off the road and struck the girl. After she died, Pete felt that he had nothing left in the world except his grief. The blue eyes of Jean Grace brought him out of that world of self-pity and made him remember again all that he had lost. The pain of remembering was so great that Pete wanted to run away from the happy Christmas shoppers who came to look at his beautiful old things during the next ten days.
When the last shopper had gone, late on Christmas Eve, the door opened and a young woman came in. Pete could not understand it, but he felt that he had seen her before. Her hair was sunlight yellow and her eyes were sea-blue. Without speaking, she put on the counter a package wrapped in pretty Christmas paper. When Pete opened the package, the string of blue beads lay again before him.
“Did this come from your shop?” she asked.
Pete looked at her with eyes no longer cold. “Yes, it did,” he said.
“Are the stones real?”
“Yes. They aren't the best turquoise(绿松石), but they are real.”
“Can you remember to whom you sold them?”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She wanted them for her sister's Christmas present.”
“How much were they?”
“I can't tell you that,” he said. “The seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies. How could she pay for them?”
“She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” he said.
For a moment there was no sound in the little shop. Then somewhere in the city, church bells began to ring. It was midnight and the beginning of another Christmas Day.
“But why did you do it?” the girl asked.
Pete put the package into her hands.
“There is no one else to whom I can give a Christmas present,” he said. “It is already Christmas morning. Will you let me take you to your home? I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas at your door.”
And so, to the sound of many bells, Pete Richards and a girl whose name he had not yet learned walked out into the hope and happiness of a new Christmas Day
- 1.
When Pete saw Jean Grace, he was ______
- A.very enthusiastic, hoping for some business to be done
- B.cold but he still served the young customer
- C.cold, unwilling to serve the young customer
- D.very warm to the young customer though he did not want to sell anything to her
- A.
- 2.
Pete did not say the price of the necklace because ______
- A.the seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays
- B.he priced the necklace too high
- C.he knew it would disappoint the girl
- D.he didn't want to sell the necklace
- A.
- 3.
The eyes of Jean Grace brought Pete out of his world of self-pity and he ______
- A.tried to forget the memory of his sweetheart
- B.began to look at the world optimistically
- C.remembered his lost love
- D.no longer felt the pain in him
- A.
- 4.
A young woman came into the shop because ______
- A.she was afraid that there might be some mistake
- B.she thought that the stones she had bought were not real
- C.she was not sure if she could get more stones like those
- D.she did not like what she had once bought
- A.
- 5.
By saying “She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” Pete meant that Jean Grace
- A.gave the most money for the necklace
- B.gave all she had with her for the necklace
- C.appreciated the value of the necklace
- D.wanted to have the best thing in the shop
- A.
- 6.
At the end of the story we see that Pete _____
- A.found another girl that he could trust
- B.met someone who truly loved him
- C.found a place to go at last
- D.regained his ability to love
- A.
Buddy seldom saw either of his parents. But he was happy where he was and he had many kindly
relatives, among whom Miss Sook was by far his best friend. Before Christmas, Buddy's father had
managed to get legal custody(法定监护) of him for this Christmas. So, he had a new suit, with a card
pinned with his name and address and made the trip alone, by bus, to New Orleans.
Several things occurred that kept me awake the whole night. First, the footfalls, the noise of my father
running up and down the stairs, breathing heavily, I had to see what he was up to. So I hid and watched.
There was a Christmas tree and the fireplace downstairs. Moreover, I could see my father. He was
crawling around under the tree arranging a pyramid of packages. I felt dizzy, for what I saw forced me to
reconsider everything. If these were presents intended for me, then obviously they had not been ordered
by the Lord and delivered by Santa Claus; no, they were gifts bought and wrapped by my father,which
meant that my rotten little cousin Billy Bob and other rotten kids like him weren't lying when they laughed
at me and told me there was no Santa Claus. The worst thought was: Had Sook known the truth, and lied
to me? No, Sook would never lie to me. She believed. It was just that-well, though she was
sixty-something, in some ways she was at least as much of a child as I was.
I waited until I was sure he was in bed and sound asleep. Then I crept downstairs and examined the
tags attached to each of the packages. They all said: "For Buddy." I decided to open the packages: It
was Christmas morning. I was awake, so why not? I won't bother to describe what was inside them: just
shirts and sweaters and dull stuff like that. The only thing I appreciated was a toy gun. Somehow I got the
idea it would be fun to waken my father by firing it. So I did. Bang. Bang. Bang. He raced out of his room, wild-eyed, Bang. Bang. Bang. "Buddy-what the hell do you think you're doing?" Bang. Bang. Bang. "Stop that!" I laughed. "Look, Daddy. Look at all wonderful things Santa Claus brought me."
Calm now, he walked into the room and hugged me. "You like what Santa Claus brought you?"
I smiled at him. He smiled at me. There was a tender lingering (逗留不去的) moment, damaged when I said: "Yes. But what are you going to give me, Daddy?" His smile evaporated. His eyes narrowed
suspiciously-you could see that he thought I was pulling some kind of trick. But then he blushed, as though he was ashamed to be thinking what he was thinking. He patted my head, and coughed and said: "Well, I
thought I'd wait and let you pick out something you wanted. Is there anything particular you want?"
I reminded him of the airplane we had seen in the toy store on Canal Street. His face sagged. Oh, yes, he
remembered the airplane and how expensive it was. Nevertheless, the next day I was sitting in that
airplane dreaming I was zooming toward heaven while my father wrote out a check for a happy salesman, who promised to help ship the plane on the bus.
But I wasn't free of New Orleans yet. The problem was a large bottle of wine; maybe it was because of
my departure, but anyway my father had been drinking it all day, and on the way to the bus station, he
scared me by grabbing my wrist and harshly whispering: "I'm not going to let you go. I can't let you go back to that crazy family in that crazy old house. Just look at what they've done to you. A boy six, almost
seven, talking about Santa Claus! It's all their fault, all those sour old spinsters with their Bibles and their
knitting needles, those drunken uncles. Listen to me, Buddy. There is no God! There is no Santa Claus.
" He was squeezing my wrist so hard that it ached. "Kiss me. Please. Please. Kiss me. Tell your daddy
that you love him." But I couldn't speak. I was terrified I was going to miss my bus. And I was worried
about my plane, which was strapped to the top of the taxi. "Say it: 'I love you.' Say it. Please. Buddy. Say
it."
It was lucky for me that our taxi-driver was a good-hearted man. Because if it hadn't been for his help, and the help of some efficient porters and a friendly policeman, I don't know what would have happened
when we reached the station. My father was so drunk he could hardly walk, but the policeman talked to
him, quieted him down, helped him to stand straight, and the taxi-man promised to take him safely home.
But my father would not leave until he had seen the porters put me on the bus.
Once I was on the bus, I crouched in a seat and shut my eyes. I felt the strangest pain. A crushing pain
that hurt everywhere. I thought if I took off my heavy city shoes, those crucifying monsters, the agony
would ease. I took them off, but the mysterious pain did not leave me. In a way it never has; never will.
Twelve hours later I was home in bed. The room was dark. Sook was sitting beside me, rocking in a
rocking chair, a sound as soothing (令人舒畅的) as ocean waves. I had tried to tell her everything that
had happened, and only stopped when I was hoarse (嘶哑的) as a howling dog. She stroked her fingers
through my hair, and said: "Of course there is a Santa Clause. It's just that no single somebody could do
all he has to do. So the Lord has spread the task among us all. That's why everybody is Santa Claus. I am. You are. Even you cousin Billy Bob. Now go to sleep. Count stars. Think of the quietest thing. Like snow. I'm sorry you didn't get to see any. But now snow is falling through the stars-" Stars sparkled, snow whirled inside my head; the last thing I remembered was the peaceful voice of the Lord telling me something I
must do. And the next day I did it. I went with Sook to the post office and bought a penny postcard. That same postcard exists today. It was found in my father's safety deposit box when he died last year. Here is what I had written him: Hello pop hope you are well I am and I am turning to pedal my plane so fast I will
soon be in the sky so keep your eyes open and yes I love you Buddy.
B. He thought his son should have known all the presents were sent by him, not Santa Claus.
C. It was difficult for him to accept that his son is so greedy.
D. He was ashamed of not knowing what his son liked.
B Buddy's father and Miss Sook were people of different personalities.
C. Buddy still held the belief that there was Santa Claus.
D. Buddy finally mailed a postcard to his father.
B. Miss Sook had no idea of Santa Clause, and lied to Buddy.
C. Father loved Buddy very much and prepared a lot of gifts for him.
D. Buddy was afraid of his father for they had been separated long time.
B. clever
C. naughty
D. trusted
B. A Christmas Memory
C. How to Celebrate Christmas in a Meaningful Way?
D. A Christmas of a Divorced Family
years, Buddy seldom saw either of his parents. But he was happy where he was and he had many
kindly relatives, among whom Miss Sook was by far his best friend. Before Christmas, Buddy's
father had managed to get legal custody(法定监护) of him for this Christmas. So, he had a new
suit, with a card pinned with his name and address and made the trip alone, by bus, to New
Orleans.
Several things occurred that kept me awake the whole night. First, the footfalls, the noise of my father
running up and down the stairs, breathing heavily, I had to see what he was up to. So I hid and watched.
There was a Christmas tree and the fireplace downstairs. Moreover, I could see my father. He was
crawling around under the tree arranging a pyramid of packages. I felt dizzy, for what I saw forced me to
reconsider everything. If these were presents intended for me, then obviously they had not been ordered
by the Lord and delivered by Santa Claus; no, they were gifts bought and wrapped by my father. Which
meant that my rotten little cousin Billy Bob and other rotten kids like him weren't lying when they laughed
at me and told me there was no Santa Claus. The worst thought was: Had Sook known the truth, and lied
to me? No, Sook would never lie to me. She believed. It was just that-well, though she was
sixty-something, in some ways she was at least as much of a child as I was.
I waited until I was sure he was in bed and sound asleep. Then I crept downstairs and examined the
tags attached to each of the packages. They all said: "For Buddy." I decided to open the packages: It
was Christmas morning. I was awake, so why not? I won't bother to describe what was inside them: just
shirts and sweaters and dull stuff like that. The only thing I appreciated was a toy gun. Somehow I got the
idea it would be fun to waken my father by firing it. So I did. Bang. Bang. Bang. He raced out of his room, wild-eyed, Bang. Bang. Bang. "Buddy-what the hell do you think you're doing? Bang. Bang. Bang. "Stop
that!" I laughed. " Look, Daddy. Look at all wonderful things Santa Claus brought me."
Calm now, he walked into the room and hugged me. "You like what Santa Claus brought you?"
I smiled at him. He smiled at me. There was a tender lingering (逗留不去的) moment, damaged
when I said: "Yes. But what are you going to give me, Daddy?" His smile evaporated. His eyes narrowed
suspiciously-you could see that he thought I was pulling some kind of trick. But then he blushed, as
though he was ashamed to be thinking what he was thinking. He patted my head, and coughed and said: "Well, I thought I'd wait and let you pick out something you wanted. Is there anything particular you
want?"
I reminded him of the airplane we had seen in the toy store on Canal Street. His face sagged. Oh,
yes, he remembered the airplane and how expensive it was. Nevertheless, the next day I was sitting in
that airplane dreaming I was zooming toward heaven while my father wrote out a check for a happy
salesman, who promised to help ship the plane on the bus.
But I wasn't free of New Orleans yet. The problem was a large bottle of wine; maybe it was because
of my departure, but anyway my father had been drinking it all day, and on the way to the bus station, he
scared me by grabbing my wrist and harshly whispering: "I'm not going to let you go. I can't let you go
back to that crazy family in that crazy old house. Just look at what they've done to you. A boy six, almost
seven, talking about Santa Claus! It's all their fault, all those sour old spinsters with their Bibles and their
knitting needles, those drunken uncles. Listen to me, Buddy. There is no God! There is no Santa Claus."
He was squeezing my wrist so hard that it ached. "Kiss me. Please. Please. Kiss me. Tell your daddy
that you love him." But I couldn't speak. I was terrified I was going to miss my bus. And I was worried
about my plane, which was strapped to the top of the taxi. "Say it: 'I love you.' Say it. Please. Buddy. Say
it."
It was lucky for me that our taxi-driver was a good-hearted man. Because if it hadn't been for his help, and the help of some efficient porters and a friendly policeman, I don't know what would have happened
when we reached the station. My father was so drunk he could hardly walk, but the policeman talked to
him, quieted him down, helped him to stand straight, and the taxi-man promised to take him safely home.
But my father would not leave until he had seen the porters put me on the bus.
Once I was on the bus, I crouched in a seat and shut my eyes. I felt the strangest pain. A crushing pain
that hurt everywhere. I thought if I took off my heavy city shoes, those crucifying monsters, the agony
would ease. I took them off, but the mysterious pain did not leave me. In a way it never has; never will.
Twelve hours later I was home in bed. The room was dark. Sook was sitting beside me, rocking in a
rocking chair, a sound as soothing (令人舒畅的) as ocean waves. I had tried to tell her everything that
had happened, and only stopped when I was hoarse (嘶哑的) as a howling dog. She stroked her fingers
through my hair, and said: "Of course there is a Santa Clause. It's just that no single somebody could do
all he has to do. So the Lord has spread the task among us all. That's why everybody is Santa Claus. I
am. You are. Even you cousin Billy Bob. Now go to sleep. Count stars. Think of the quietest thing. Like
snow. I'm sorry you didn't get to see any. But now snow is falling through the stars-" Stars sparkled,
snow whirled inside my head; the last thing I remembered was the peaceful voice of the Lord telling me
something I must do. And the next day I did it. I went with Sook to the post office and bought a penny
postcard. That same postcard exists today. It was found in my father's safety deposit box when he died
last year. Here is what I had written him: Hello pop hope you are well I am and I am turning to
pedal my plane so fast I will soon be in the sky so keep your eyes open and yes I love you Buddy.
B. He thought his son should have known all the presents were sent by him, not Santa Claus.
C. It was difficult for him to accept that his son is so greedy.
D. He was ashamed of not knowing what his son liked.
B. His father was very drunk and had difficulty returning home.
C. He didn't say "I love you" to his father.
D. He had an argument with his father at home.
B. Buddy's father and Miss Sook were people of different personalities.
C. Buddy still held the belief that there was Santa Claus.
D. Buddy finally mailed a postcard to his father.
B. Miss had no idea of Santa Clause, and lied to Buddy.
C. Father loved Buddy very much and prepared a lot of gifts for him.
D. Buddy was afraid of his father for they had been separated long time.
B. clever
C. naughty
D. trusted
B. A Christmas Memory
C. How to Celebrate Christmas in a Meaningful Way?
D. A Christmas of a Divorced Family
Pete Richards was the loneliest man in town on the day that little Jean Grace opened the door of his shop.
Pete's grandfather had owned the shop until his death. Then the shop became Pete's. The front window was full of beautiful old things: jewelry of a hundred years ago, gold and silver boxes, carved figures from China and Japan and other nations.
On this winter afternoon, a child stood there, her face close to the window. With large and serious eyes, she studied each piece in the window. Then, looking pleased, she stepped back from the window and went into the shop. Pete himself stood behind the counter. His eyes were cold as he looked at the small girl. “Please,” she began, “would you let me look at the pretty string of blue beads in the window?” Pete took the string of blue beads from the window. The beads were beautiful against his hand as he held the necklace up for her to see.
“They are just right,” said the child as though she were alone with the beads. “Will you wrap them up in pretty paper for me, please? I've been looking for a really wonderful Christmas present for my sister.”
“How much money do you have?” asked Pete.
She put a handful of pennies on the counter. “This is all I have,” she explained simply. “I've been saving the money for my sister's present.”
Pete looked at her, his eyes thoughtful. Then he carefully closed his hand over the price mark on the necklace so that she could not see it. How could he tell her the price? The happy look in her big blue eyes struck him like the pain of an old wound.
“Just a minute,” he said and went to the back of the shop. “What's your name?” he called out. He was very busy about something.
“Jean Grace,” answered the child.
When Pete returned to the front of the shop, he held a package in his hand. It was wrapped in pretty Christmas paper.
“There you are,” he said. “Don't lose it on the way home.”
She smiled happily at him as she ran out of the door. Through the window he watched her go. He felt more alone than ever.
Something about Jean Grace and her string of beads had made him feel once more the pain of his old grief. The child's hair was as yellow as the sunlight; her eyes were as blue as the sea. Once upon a time, Pete had loved a girl with hair of that same yellow and with eyes just as blue. And the necklace of blue stones had been meant for her.
But one rainy night, a car had gone off the road and struck the girl. After she died, Pete felt that he had nothing left in the world except his grief. The blue eyes of Jean Grace brought him out of that world of self-pity and made him remember again all that he had lost. The pain of remembering was so great that Pete wanted to run away from the happy Christmas shoppers who came to look at his beautiful old things during the next ten days.
When the last shopper had gone, late on Christmas Eve, the door opened and a young woman came in. Pete could not understand it, but he felt that he had seen her before. Her hair was sunlight yellow and her eyes were sea-blue. Without speaking, she put on the counter a package wrapped in pretty Christmas paper. When Pete opened the package, the string of blue beads lay again before him.
“Did this come from your shop?” she asked.
Pete looked at her with eyes no longer cold. “Yes, it did,” he said.
“Are the stones real?”
“Yes. They aren't the best turquoise(绿松石), but they are real.”
“Can you remember to whom you sold them?”
“She was a small girl. Her name was Jean. She wanted them for her sister's Christmas present.”
“How much were they?”
“I can't tell you that,” he said. “The seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays.”
“But Jean has never had more than a few pennies. How could she pay for them?”
“She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” he said.
For a moment there was no sound in the little shop. Then somewhere in the city, church bells began to ring. It was midnight and the beginning of another Christmas Day.
“But why did you do it?” the girl asked.
Pete put the package into her hands.
“There is no one else to whom I can give a Christmas present,” he said. “It is already Christmas morning. Will you let me take you to your home? I would like to wish you a Merry Christmas at your door.”
And so, to the sound of many bells, Pete Richards and a girl whose name he had not yet learned walked out into the hope and happiness of a new Christmas Day.
55．When Pete saw Jean Grace, he was ______.
A. very enthusiastic, hoping for some business to be done
B. cold but he still served the young customer
C. cold, unwilling to serve the young customer
D. very warm to the young customer though he did not want to sell anything to her
56．Pete did not say the price of the necklace because ______.
A. the seller never tells anyone else what a buyer pays
B. he priced the necklace too high
C. he knew it would disappoint the girl
D. he didn't want to sell the necklace
57．The eyes of Jean Grace brought Pete out of his world of self-pity and he ______.
A. tried to forget the memory of his sweetheart
B. began to look at the world optimistically
C. remembered his lost love
D. no longer felt the pain in him
58．A young woman came into the shop because ______.
A. she was afraid that there might be some mistake
B. she thought that the stones she had bought were not real
C. she was not sure if she could get more stones like those
D. she did not like what she had once bought
59．By saying “She paid the biggest price one can ever pay,” Pete meant that Jean Grace .
A. gave the most money for the necklace
B. gave all she had with her for the necklace
C. appreciated the value of the necklace
D. wanted to have the best thing in the shop
60．At the end of the story we see that Pete _____.
A. found another girl that he could trust
B. met someone who truly loved him
C. found a place to go at last
D. regained his ability to love
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