71. According to the passage, volcanoes erupt when____.

A. the Earth creates too much magma

B. they are activated by an outside force.

C. the huge plates create pressure far below the earth’s surface

D. Magma in the chambers rises through shafts in the weakened rocks  Key: 68-71DCAD

(B)

The church seems cold this morning, even after all the people, friends and family fill the benches. I sit here in silence, in shock and denial. This was not supposed to happen. What about our dreams, or our plans? We were going to raise our children, travel around the world, and grow old together. I’m only 37, a typical housewife. I don’t know if I can do all this alone-two children, no father. What do I do or say?

The faces of so many people confuse me as they come to pay their last respects. Some have real sorrow; I can see it in their eyes. The others seem to just say. “I told you so.” Those famous last words: I-told-you-so. How I can’t stand them. And the pointing fingers as so-called family and so-called friends pick me out of the crowd for others to see. I want to scream and wake up but I can’t do anything but sit there. How can they be so blind? I fell in love with a man. Love knows no boundaries.

He was a good man, hardworking, caring and kind. He was retired from the Navy and a gentleman. He was sensitive to others’ needs, the kind of man that knew what to do or say, how to humor any situation and calm everyone’s fears. I remember our first child was a big surprise to both of us. I remember when I told him the news. He fell off his chair, saying over and over in disbelief. “But I’m almost sixty.” After a few months he started planning our next and even doing his famous little dance whenever he discussed the idea.

A man, thirty years older than I, lies in a coffin. Flowers, the American flag and his VFW comrades surround him, paying tribute(颂词) to him as the man he really was. And I sit alone here, with our two children, in silence, praying that his cold morning at church is only a nightmare(梦魇) and I will awake to his loving arms again.

Our son, our first born, his joy and pride, sits to the right of me, seeming just as confused as me. I look over at him. How he looks like his father-blonde hair, tall and skinny-even his Irish temperament(气质) and that naughty look in his eyes. He’s wearing his father’s watch. It’s too big for him but he refused to take it off. I know he’ll keep it safe. Our second, the little angel and Daddy’s little girl, lies in her stroller(婴儿车) in the aisle, sound asleep. She’ll never remember the man she called “Da”.

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