Once on a dark winter's day，when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of

    London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they did at night，

    an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the

    main street.

        Sara Crewe leaned against her father，who held her in his arms，as she stared out of the

    window at the passing people with an old-fashioned thoughtfulness in her big eyes. At this

    moment she was remembering the voyage she had just made from Bombay with her father，

    Captain Crewe. She was thinking of what a strange thing it was that at one time one was in India

    in the hot sun，and then in the middle of the ocean，and then driving in a strange vehicle through

    strange streets·

        “Papa，” she said in a low，mysterious little voice which was.almost a whisper.

        “What is it，darling?”Captain Crewe answered，holding her closer and looking down into

    her face．

        "Is this the place？＂Sara whispered.

        "Yes，little Sara，it is. We have reached it at last.，，

        It seemed to her many years since he had begun to prepare her mind. for "the place”，as she

always called it. Her mother had died when she was born，so she had never known or missed her.

Her young，handsome，rich father seemed to be the only relation she had in the world．

        During her short life only one thing had troubled her，and that thing was "the place，， she was

    to be taken to some day. The climate of India was very bad for children，and as soon as possible

    they were sent away from it-generally to England and to school.

        "Couldn't you go to that place with me，Papa？＂she had asked when she was five years old．

    "Couldn't you go to school，too？ I would help you with your lessons.，，

        "But you will not have to stay for a very long time，little Sara，”he had always said. "You

    will grow so fast that it will seem scarcely a year before you are big enough and clever enough to

    come back and take care of Papa.”

          She had liked to think of that．She liked to talk to him and read his books-that would be

    what she would like most in the world，and if one must go away to "the place，， in England to

    attain it，she must mAke up her mind to go．She liked books more than anything else，and was，

    in fact，always inventing stories of beautiful things and telling them to herself.

        Captain Crewe held her very closely in his arms as the cab rolled into the big，dull square in

      which stood the house which was their destination．

      60. The story happened_______．

        A. on a moonless night B. on a foggy day

        C. on a hot day D. on a starry night

      61．Sara Crewe came to England to_______

          A. visit her relatives B. see her mother's house

        C. receive education D. buy books for her father

      62. We can learn from the story that Sara Crewe was_______．

        A. sceptical B. curious C. cheerful D. imaginative

       Harald Kaas was sixty. His back became rounded, and he bent a little. His forehead, always of the broadest－no one else’s hat would fit him － was now one of the highest, that is to say, he had lost all his teeth, which were strong though small, and blackened by smoking. Now, instead of “deuce take it” he said “deush take it”. He had always held his hands half closed as though grasping something; now they stiffened so that he could never open them fully. The little finger of his ldft hand had been bitten off. According to Harald’s version of the story, the fellow swallowed the piece on the spot.

       He was fond of showing off the ldft part, and it often served as an introduction to the history of brave adventures, which became greater and greater and greater as he grew older and quieter. His small sharp eyes were deep set and looked at one with great intensity. There wsa power in his individuality. He has no lack of self-respect.

       His house, raised on an old foundation, looked out to the south over many islands; farther out were more islands and the open sea. Its eastern wing was barely half furnished, and the western inhabited by Harald Kaas. These wings were connected by a gallery, behind which were the fields and woods to the north.

In the gallery itself were heads of bears, wolves, foxes and lynxes and stuffed birds from land and sea. Skins and guns hung on the walls of the front room. The inner rooms were also full of skins and filled with the smell of wild animals and tobacco-smoke. Harald himself called it “man-smell”; no one who had once put his nose inside could ever forget it. Valuable and beautiful skins hung on the walls and sat, and walked on skins, and each one of them was a subject of conversation. Harald Kaas, seated in his log chair by the fireside, his feet on the bearskin, opened his shirt to show the scars on his hairy chest (and what scars they were) which had been made by a bears teeth, when he had driven his knife, right up to the end, into the monster’s heart. All the tables, and cupboards, and carved chairs listened in their silence.

68．Who or what most probably bit harald Kaass’ little finger off?

       A．On of his fellow hunters

B．An adversary in a boxing match

C．A wild animal 

D．One of his hunting dogs