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

Recently divorced(离婚), I had no job and was on my way downtown to go the rounds of the employment offices despite the great   36  . My old umbrella was broken, and I could not   37   another one.

I sat down in the streetcar — and there against the seat was a beautiful silk   38   with a silver handle inlaid (镶嵌) with gold. I had   39   seen anything so lovely.

I   40   the handle and saw a   41  . I got off the streetcar and   42   opened the umbrella to protect myself. Then I searched a   43   book for the name on the umbrella and found it. I called and a lady answered.

Yes, she said in   44  , that was her umbrella, which her parents, now dead, had given her for a birthday present.   45  , she added, it had been stolen at school (she was a teacher) more than a year before.

She was so excited that I   46   I was   47   a job and went directly to her house. She took the umbrella, her   48   filled with tears.

I refused the   49   she gave me. We talked for a while, and I must have given her my address. I don’t remember.

The next six months were   50  . I was able to obtain   51   here and there. l reached the lowest point in my   52  . Unless a miracle happened, I would be homeless in January, foodless, jobless.

Christmas Eve came. No money to buy my daughter a gift. I was sobbing (抽泣) in the cold little kitchen   53   the doorbell rang and my daughter Peggy ran to answer it. He was a postman, and his arms were   54   of parcels. “This is a mistake” I said, but he read the name on the parcels and there were for me.

Peggy and I sat on the floor and opened them. I looked for the name of the sender. It was the teacher. The address was   55   “California”, where she had moved.

1.A. cloud                           B. rain                         C. wind                       D. snow

2.A. search                        B. catch　　         C. afford 　　         D. sell

3.A. raincoat                     B. seat          C. book 　            D. umbrella

4.A. never                          B. ever 　　　     C. almost 　　      D. nearly

5.A. concluded                  B. examined      C. learned 　          D. helped

6.A. name                          B. address 　         C. card 　                D. demand

7.A. deliberately               B. specially 　　   C. sadly                 D. thankfully

8.A. technology                B. engine 　　     C. telephone             D. medicine

9.A. anger                          B. surprise　　     C. danger                            D. sorrow

10.A. And                           B. But　　　　    C. So　　　             D. Or

11. A. forgot                      B. remembered        C. indicated 　　   D. decided

12.A. applied for               B. watching for         C. asking for　         D. looking for

13.A. face                           B. nose 　　　　  C. eyes　　　                   D. ear

14.A. reward                     B. prize　　　　　C. present                 D. umbrella

15. A. freezing                            B. surprising              C. shocking                D struggling

16.A. failures                     B. successes　　   C. jobs　　          D. wages

17.A. heart                        B. favor 　　          C. work　　            D. life

18.A. as                              B. while　　         C. when 　              D. then

19.A. proud                        B. full 　　  C. careful　　       D. glad

20. A. simply              B. directly          C. finally                 D. nearly

It's no secret that many children would be healthier and happier with adoptive parents than with the parents that nature dealt them. That's especially true of children who remain in abusive homes because the law blindly favors biological parents. It's also true of children who suffer for years in foster homes (收养孩子的家庭) because of parents who can't or won't care for them but refuse to give up custody (监护) rights.

Fourteen-year-old Kimberly Mays fits neither description, but her recent court victory could eventually help children who do. Kimberly has been the object of an angry custody baffle between the man who raised her and her biological parents, with whom she has never lived. A Florida judge ruled that the teenager can remain with the only father she's ever known and that her biological parents have "no legal claim" on her.

The ruling, though it may yet be reversed, sets aside the principle that biology is the primary determinant of parentage. That's an important development, one that's long overdue.

Shortly after birth in December 1978, Kimberly Mays and another infant were mistakenly switched and sent home with the wrong parents. Kimberly's biological parents, Ernest and Regina Twigg, received a child who died of a heart disease in 1988. Medical tests showed that the child wasn't the Twiggs' own daughter, but Kimt only was, thus sparking a custody battle with Robert Mays. In 1989, the two families agreed that Mr. Mays would maintain custody with the Twiggs getting visiting fights. Those rights were ended when Mr. Mays decided that Kimberly was being harmed.

The decision to leave Kimberly with Mr. Mays rendered her suit debated. But the judge made clear that Kimberly did have standing to sue ( 起诉) on her own behalf. Thus he made clear that she was more than just property to be handled as adults saw fit.

Certainly, the biological link between parent and child is fundamental. But biological parents aren't always preferable to adoptive ones, and biological parentage does not convey an absolute ownership that cancels all the rights of children.

36. What was the primary consideration in the Florida judge's ruling?

A. The biological link.              　　  B. The child's benefits.  

C. The traditional practice.         　　 D. The parents' feelings.

37. We can learn from the Kimberly case that

A. children are more than just personal possessions of their parents

B. the biological link between parent and child should be emphasized

C. foster homes bring children more pain and suffering than care

D. biological parents shouldn't claim custody rights after their child is adopted

38. The Twiggs claimed custody rights to Kimberly because

A. they found her unhappy in Mr. Mays' custody     B. they regarded her as their property

C. they were her biological parents               D. they felt guilty about their past mistake

39. Kimberly had been given to Mr. Mays

A. by sheer accident          B. at his request       C. out of charity          D. for better care

40. The author's attitude towards the judge's ruling could be described as

A. doubtful             B. cautious         C. critical          D. supportive

It's no secret that many children would be healthier and happier with adoptive parents than with the parents that nature dealt them. That's especially true of children who remain in abusive homes because the law blindly favors biological parents. It's also true of children who suffer for years in foster homes (收养孩子的家庭) because of parents who can't or won't care for them but refuse to give up custody (监护) rights.

Fourteen-year-old Kimberly Mays fits neither description, but her recent court victory could eventually help children who do. Kimberly has been the object of an angry custody baffle between the man who raised her and her biological parents, with whom she has never lived. A Florida judge ruled that the teenager can remain with the only father she's ever known and that her biological parents have "no legal claim" on her.

The ruling, though it may yet be reversed, sets aside the principle that biology is the primary determinant of parentage. That's an important development, one that's long overdue.

Shortly after birth in December 1978, Kimberly Mays and another infant were mistakenly switched and sent home with the wrong parents. Kimberly's biological parents, Ernest and Regina Twigg, received a child who died of a heart disease in 1988. Medical tests showed that the child wasn't the Twiggs' own daughter, but Kimt only was, thus sparking a custody battle with Robert Mays. In 1989, the two families agreed that Mr. Mays would maintain custody with the Twiggs getting visiting fights. Those rights were ended when Mr. Mays decided that Kimberly was being harmed.

The decision to leave Kimberly with Mr. Mays rendered her suit debated. But the judge made clear that Kimberly did have standing to sue ( 起诉) on her own behalf. Thus he made clear that she was more than just property to be handled as adults saw fit.

Certainly, the biological link between parent and child is fundamental. But biological parents aren't always preferable to adoptive ones, and biological parentage does not convey an absolute ownership that cancels all the rights of children.

36. What was the primary consideration in the Florida judge's ruling?

A. The biological link.              　　   B. The child's benefits.  

C. The traditional practice.         　　 D. The parents' feelings.

37. We can learn from the Kimberly case that

    A. children are more than just personal possessions of their parents

    B. the biological link between parent and child should be emphasized

    C. foster homes bring children more pain and suffering than care

    D. biological parents shouldn't claim custody rights after their child is adopted

38. The Twiggs claimed custody rights to Kimberly because

    A. they found her unhappy in Mr. Mays' custody     B. they regarded her as their property

    C. they were her biological parents                D. they felt guilty about their past mistake

39. Kimberly had been given to Mr. Mays

    A. by sheer accident          B. at his request        C. out of charity          D. for better care

40. The author's attitude towards the judge's ruling could be described as

    A. doubtful             B. cautious         C. critical          D. supportive

My Way to Success

From the day I signed up for the Naumburg Competition, everything changed. I had made a decision to start again, to save my life, and that meant a 360-degree turnaround.
I kept on practicing. An enormous amount of work had to be done in two months. I went from not practicing at all to thirteen hours a day.
I spent two weeks just playing scales. If I thought I sounded bad before, now I sounded worse than awful.
At the time I lived on 72nd Street, close to West End Avenue. I had an apartment with a window the size of a shoebox. I didn't do mylaundry. I left my apartment only to walk to Juilliard─and not onBroadway like everyone else. I walked up Amsterdam Avenue because I didn't want to see anybody, didn't want to run into anybody, didn't want anyone to ask what I was doing.
I stopped going to classes and became a hermit. I even talked Miss DeLay into giving my lesson at night.
My eating habits were awful. I lived on fried sausages, a pint of peanut butter/chocolate ice cream, and a gallon of Coca-Cola every day. That's all I ate for eight weeks.
I was nuts. I was completely obsessed with getting back into shape, with doing well in this competition. If I could, people would know I was still on earth. Not to count me out; to stop asking, “Whatever happened to Nadja?”
The last week before the Naumburg auditions, I couldn't touch the violin. I had worked and worked and worked and worked and then I just couldn't work anymore.
I certainly could have used it. I wasn't as prepared as I should have been. But I simply had to say, “Nadja, you've dedicated yourself to this thing. Ready or not, do your best.”
Fifty violinists from around the world auditioned for the competition on May 25, 26, and 27, 1981. Those that made it past thepreliminaries would go on to the semifinals. Those that passed that stage would go to the finals. In years past, one violinist was chosen as winner and two received second and third place.
On May 26, the day of my audition, I went to the Merkin Concert Hall at 67th Street and Broadway. I waited, played for twenty minutes, and went home. I couldn't tell whether the preliminary judges were impressed or not. I'd find out the next evening.
Maybe subconsciously I was trying to keep busy; that night, when I fried the sausages, I accidentally set my apartment on fire. I grabbed my cat and my violin, and ran out the door. The fire was put out, but everything in my place was wrecked.
Fortunately, the phone was okay and on the evening of May 27, I had the news from Lucy Rowan Mann of Naumburg. Thirteen of us had made it.
Talk about mixed emotions. I was thrilled to be among the thirteen; a group that included established violinists, some of whom had already made records. But it also meant I had to play the next day in the semifinals of the competition.
Everyone entering the competition had been given two lists of concertos. One was a list of standard repertory pieces. The other list was twentieth-century repertory. For our big competition piece, we were to choose from each list and play a movement from one in the semifinals, and a movement from the other in the finals─if we made it that far.
From the standard repertory list, I chose the Tchaikovsky Concerto. I had been playing the Tchaik for three years, so it was a good piece for me.
From the twentieth-century list, I chose the Prokofiev G minor Concerto. I had never played it onstage before.
My goal had been just passing the auditions, but now my thought pattern began to change. If I wanted a sliver of a chance of advancing again, my brain said, “Play your strong piece first.”
Logically, I should play the Tchaikovsky in the semifinals just to make it to the next stage. Who cared if that left me with a piece I probably wouldn't play as well in the finals of the competition? It'd be a miracle to get that far.
There wouldn't be more than seven violinists chosen for the final round, and if I were in the top seven of an international group, that was plenty good enough.
The semifinals were held on May 28 in Merkin Concert Hall. You were to play for thirty minutes: your big piece first, then the judges would ask to hear another.
There was a panel of eight judges. They had a piece of paper with my choices of the Tchaikovsky and the Prokofiev in front of them. “Which would you like to play?” they asked.
I said meekly, “Prokofiev.”
My brain and all the logic in the world had said, “Play your strong piece.” My heart said, “Go for it all. Play your weak piece now, save Tchaikovsky for the finals.”
Maybe I don't listen to logic so easily after all.
My good friend, the pianist Sandra Rivers, had been chosen as accompanist for the competition. She knew I was nervous. There had been a very short time to prepare; I was sure there'd be memory slips, that I'd blank out in the middle and the judges would throw me out. My hands were like ice.
The first eight measures of the Prokofiev don't have accompaniment. The violin starts the piece alone. So I started playing.
I got through the first movement and Sandra said later my face was as white as snow. She said I was so tense, I was beyond shaking. Just a solid brick.
It was the best I'd ever played it. No memory slips at all. Technically, musically, it was there.
I finished it thinking, “Have I sold my soul for this? Is the devil going to visit me at midnight? How come it went so well?”
I didn't know why, but often I do my best under the worst of circumstances. I don't know if it's guts or a determination not to disappoint people. Who knows what it is, but it came through for me, and I thank God for that.
As the first movement ended, the judges said, “Thank you.” Then they asked for the Carmen Fantasy.
I turned and asked Sandy for an A, to retune, and later she said the blood was just rushing back into my face.
I whispered, “Sandy, I made it. I did it.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back, kiddingly, “too bad you didn't screw up. Maybe next time.”
At that point I didn't care if I did make the finals because I had played the Prokofiev so well. I was so proud of myself for coming through.
I needed a shot in the arm; that afternoon I got evicted. While I was at Merkin, my moped had blown up. For my landlord, that was the last straw.
What good news. I was completely broke and didn't have the next month's rent anyway. The landlord wanted me out that day. I said, “Please, can I have two days. I might get into the finals, can I please go through this first?”
I talked him into it, and got back to my place in time for the phone call. “Congratulations, Nadja,”“they said. “You have made the finals.”
I had achieved the ridiculously unlikely, and I had saved my best piece. Yet part of me was sorry. I wanted it to be over already. In the three days from the preliminaries to the semifinals, I lost eight pounds. I was so tired of the pressure.
There was a fellow who advanced to the finals with me, an old, good friend since Pre-College. Competition against friends is inevitable in music, but I never saw competition push a friendship out the window so quickly. By the day of the finals, I hated him and he hated me. Pressure was that intense.
The finals were held on May 29 at Carnegie Hall and open to the public. I was the fourth violinist of the morning, then there was a lunch break, and three more violinists in the afternoon.
I played my Tchaikovsky, Saint-Sa‘ns’s Havanaise, and Ravel's Tzigane for the judges: managers, famous violinists, teachers, and critics. I went on stage at five past eleven and finished at noon. Those fifty-five minutes seemed like three days.
I was so relieved when I finished playing; I was finished! It's impossible to say how happy I was to see the dressing room. I went out for lunch with my friends. It was like coming back from the grave. We laughed and joked and watched TV.
As I returned to Carnegie Hall to hear the other violinists, I realized I'd made a big mistake: they might ask for recalls. A recall is when they can't decide between two people and they want you to play again. It's been done; it's done all the time in competitions. No way was I in shape to go onstage and play again.
In the late afternoon, the competition was over. Everybody had finished playing. Quite luckily─no recalls.
The judges deliberated for an hour. The tension in the air was unbelievable. All the violinists were sitting with their little circle of friends. I had my few friends around me, but no one was saying much now.
Finally, the Naumburg Foundation president Robert Mann came on stage.
“It's always so difficult to choose ...” he began.
“Every year we hold this competition,” Robert Mann said. “And in the past, we've awarded three prizes. This year we've elected to only have one prize, the first prize.”
My heart sank. Nothing for me. Not even Miss Congeniality.
“We have found,” Mann went on, “that second place usually brings great dismay to the artist because they feel like a loser. We don't want anyone here to feel like a loser. Every finalist will receive five hundred dollars except the winner, who will receive three thousand dollars.”
And then he repeated how difficult it was to choose, how well everyone had played ...dah, dah, dah.
I was looking down at the floor.  
“The winner is ...”
And he said my name.
A friend next to me said, “Nadja, I think you won!”
I went numb. My friends pulled me up and pointed me toward the stage. It was a long walk because I had slipped into a seat in the back. Sitting up in front was my old friend. I would have to walk right past him and I was dreading it, but before I could, he got up and stopped me.
He threw his arms around me and I threw my arms around him. I kept telling him how sorry I was. I was holding him and started to cry, saying, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I didn't want to lose, but I really didn't want him to lose either. And he was holding me and saying, “Don't be sorry. I'm so proud of you.” It was over, and we would be friends again.
I took my bow, then ran to Juilliard. Ten blocks uptown, one block west, to give Miss DeLay the news. She could be proud of me now, too.
Suddenly, everything was clear. Playing the violin is what I'd do with my life. Heaven handed me a prize: “You've been through a lot, kid. Here's an international competition.”
Everything had changed when I prepared for the Naumburg, and now everything changed again. I made my first recording. Between September 1981 and May 1982, I played a hundred concerts in America, made one trip to Europe, then two months of summer festivals. And people asked me back.
There was a great deal of anxiety playing in Europe for the first time. But I was able to rely on my self-confidence to pull me through.
Self-confidence onstage doesn't mean a lack of nerves backstage. The stakes had increased. This wasn't practice anymore, this was my life. I'd stare into a dressing-room mirror and say, “Nadja, people have bought tickets, hired baby-sitters, you've got to calm down; go out there and prove yourself.”
Every night I'd prove myself again. My life work had truly begun

1. 1.

   In a gesture to prepare for the competition, Nadja did all the following except _________

   1. A.
      preoccupying herself in practice
   2. B.
      trying to carry out her deeds secretly
   3. C.
      abandoning going to school for classes
   4. D.
      consuming the best food to get enough energy
2. 2.

   How many violinists does the passage mention advanced to the finals?

   1. A.
      Four
   2. B.
      Five
   3. C.
      Six
   4. D.
      Seven
3. 3.

   After Nadja finished playing at the finals, she went out for a while and when she came back to hear the other violinists she realized she had made a mistake because _________

   1. A.
      she forgot that there was going to be a recall
   2. B.
      she didn’t get hold of the permission to leave
   3. C.
      chances were that she had to replay and she was off guard
   4. D.
      there was another play she had to take part in in the afternoon