Оригинал на английском:
17. Read the text and say which of the three titles is more suitable for it and why.
a) The First Impressions of London
b) The First Customers
c) The First Days of a New Life
This extract comes from "They Walk in the City", by John Boynton Priestley (1894-1984), a British writer and broadcaster who took a humorous view of English life in his novels. His many plays include "Dangerous Corner". He also wrote about literature, travel and society. The main character of the novel "They Walk in the City" is Rose Salter, born in a small textile town of England, who comes to London and becomes a waitress.
Rose was shown what to do by a senior waitress, who had been carrying poached eggs on toast and pots of tea for the last ten years, called Wade. She knew every labour-saving trick and spoke of the customers always as if they were fairly amiable but occasionally dangerous lunatics, her view being that the customer was always wrong.
This was fortunate for Rose, who, in spite of her trembling anxiety at first which made every trip to a table a terrific ordeal, could not help making a few mistakes. Rose's chief difficulty was in understanding what people said. She was used to hearing people shout at the top of their broad Haliford voices.
Here people either mumbled into their newspapers or rattled away in high birdlike London tones that made no sense at all. Some were disagreeable: they had been bossed about half the day themselves, and now it was their turn to be superior and unpleasant to somebody.
Unlike Miss Wade, who took it easy and had only the minimum time and no real sympathy to spare for customers, Rose was not only willing but deeply sympathetic. She felt sorry for most of the people who came in; they looked so worried and tired; and she was only too anxious to rush away and bring them quarts of tea,1 and mounds of poached eggs. Some of them were exciting, too. On her third afternoon there she had quite a talk with one odd and exciting person. He came in carrying a mass of typed sheets in a ragged blue cover, flopped into a chair, and instead of looking at the menu he stared gloomily at these typed sheets. When Rose asked him what he wanted, he did not even look up but groaned: "Anything."
"Well," said Rose, "but what's anything?"
"Oh, I dunno." He looked from his messy typed sheets to the menu, and from the menu up to Rose. Then he smiled, quite cheerfully, and promptly gave an order for tongue and salad and a roll and coffee.
When she returned with her tray, he looked up at her again and said: "You're from Leeds, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not," she told him. "Haliford. And — my God — what a place!" He said nothing more for a moment while she was setting out his lunch. Then he asked: "And when did you leave Haliford?"
"Last week."
He laughed at that, though Rose saw nothing funny about it. But he was quite pleasant. "And what do you think of London, then, Miss Haliford?"
"Well," said Rose carefully, "I think I shall like it. Of course I haven't seen much of it yet."
"Of course," he said gravely, "you can't have. In fact, you haven't begun to see it yet, have you?"
No, she hadn't. He seemed to want to talk and she was ready to listen, so she contrived to linger on without looking as if she were merely gossiping.
"It isn't a town, a place like Haliford, this isn't, y'know," he continued slowly. "It's a wilderness. It's the Amazonian jungle. It's another Grand Canyon. Whole tribes live here, buried away, nobody knows much about 'em. One night you might wander into the middle of one of 'em, and never be heard of again. That's London, lass — that's London." He sighed, and Rose, who could not make head or tail of this nonsense, looked vaguely sympathetic. Then he smiled, and so she smiled back at him, and the effect was to make his whole face to light up. "You're what this salad ought to have been — young and fresh and crisp and green. And where d'you live? Islington? And why Islington? Oh, you were recommended to go there? Well, be careful. There are old witches in Islington living on second floors behind lace curtains." He turned to his lunch and Rose left him.
When she went to give him his bill, he stared gravely at her. "Wish me luck," he said. Rose did, as he got up. He looked hard at her again. "Don't forget the unknown tribes. Or the old witches in Islington. Watch out! Be careful, I say. Turn down the wrong street of London and you're lost for ever. Goodbye, my child."
a) The First Impressions of London
b) The First Customers
c) The First Days of a New Life
This extract comes from "They Walk in the City", by John Boynton Priestley (1894-1984), a British writer and broadcaster who took a humorous view of English life in his novels. His many plays include "Dangerous Corner". He also wrote about literature, travel and society. The main character of the novel "They Walk in the City" is Rose Salter, born in a small textile town of England, who comes to London and becomes a waitress.
Rose was shown what to do by a senior waitress, who had been carrying poached eggs on toast and pots of tea for the last ten years, called Wade. She knew every labour-saving trick and spoke of the customers always as if they were fairly amiable but occasionally dangerous lunatics, her view being that the customer was always wrong.
This was fortunate for Rose, who, in spite of her trembling anxiety at first which made every trip to a table a terrific ordeal, could not help making a few mistakes. Rose's chief difficulty was in understanding what people said. She was used to hearing people shout at the top of their broad Haliford voices.
Here people either mumbled into their newspapers or rattled away in high birdlike London tones that made no sense at all. Some were disagreeable: they had been bossed about half the day themselves, and now it was their turn to be superior and unpleasant to somebody.
Unlike Miss Wade, who took it easy and had only the minimum time and no real sympathy to spare for customers, Rose was not only willing but deeply sympathetic. She felt sorry for most of the people who came in; they looked so worried and tired; and she was only too anxious to rush away and bring them quarts of tea,1 and mounds of poached eggs. Some of them were exciting, too. On her third afternoon there she had quite a talk with one odd and exciting person. He came in carrying a mass of typed sheets in a ragged blue cover, flopped into a chair, and instead of looking at the menu he stared gloomily at these typed sheets. When Rose asked him what he wanted, he did not even look up but groaned: "Anything."
"Well," said Rose, "but what's anything?"
"Oh, I dunno." He looked from his messy typed sheets to the menu, and from the menu up to Rose. Then he smiled, quite cheerfully, and promptly gave an order for tongue and salad and a roll and coffee.
When she returned with her tray, he looked up at her again and said: "You're from Leeds, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not," she told him. "Haliford. And — my God — what a place!" He said nothing more for a moment while she was setting out his lunch. Then he asked: "And when did you leave Haliford?"
"Last week."
He laughed at that, though Rose saw nothing funny about it. But he was quite pleasant. "And what do you think of London, then, Miss Haliford?"
"Well," said Rose carefully, "I think I shall like it. Of course I haven't seen much of it yet."
"Of course," he said gravely, "you can't have. In fact, you haven't begun to see it yet, have you?"
No, she hadn't. He seemed to want to talk and she was ready to listen, so she contrived to linger on without looking as if she were merely gossiping.
"It isn't a town, a place like Haliford, this isn't, y'know," he continued slowly. "It's a wilderness. It's the Amazonian jungle. It's another Grand Canyon. Whole tribes live here, buried away, nobody knows much about 'em. One night you might wander into the middle of one of 'em, and never be heard of again. That's London, lass — that's London." He sighed, and Rose, who could not make head or tail of this nonsense, looked vaguely sympathetic. Then he smiled, and so she smiled back at him, and the effect was to make his whole face to light up. "You're what this salad ought to have been — young and fresh and crisp and green. And where d'you live? Islington? And why Islington? Oh, you were recommended to go there? Well, be careful. There are old witches in Islington living on second floors behind lace curtains." He turned to his lunch and Rose left him.
When she went to give him his bill, he stared gravely at her. "Wish me luck," he said. Rose did, as he got up. He looked hard at her again. "Don't forget the unknown tribes. Or the old witches in Islington. Watch out! Be careful, I say. Turn down the wrong street of London and you're lost for ever. Goodbye, my child."