I am Bob White. My first name is ____.

A:I wonder ______ your full name please. B: My full name is Jack Wiuiams.

A．if you will tell me

B．if you'd mind telling me

C．if you'd tell me

D．if you will offer

听力原文：M: I wonder if you can tell me how to find a place where I can have my shoes fixed?

W: Well, of course, you can always look in the yellow pages in the back of the telephone book under Shoe Repair.

M: Well, thank you. You see I am new in town. And do you know which shoe shop is good and not far from here?

W: Oh, let me think awhile. Well, yes, there is a good shoe shop near here. Take the first street to the left and walk about 3 blocks.

M: Do you know what its name is?

W: I can't remember the exact name of the shop but you should run into it.

M: I'm afraid I'll miss it. Are there any other shops or buildings beside it?

W: Er...Yes, It's near the police station. By the way, do you know about the Town Guide?

M: No, is it a book?

W: Yes, it has all kinds of useful information. I think you will find it in any book store.

M: Thanks a lot. You've been very helpful. And I'll look for the Town Guide next time I'm in a book store. Let's see, you said the repair shop was three blocks from the right?

W: No, first street on the left. Then three blocks.

M: Thanks again.

W: You are welcome.

(23)

A．The bookstore.

B．The telephone company.

C．A map of the town.

D．A shoe repair shop.

Most English people have three names: a first name, a middle name and the family name. Their family name comes last. For example, my full name is Jim Allan Green. Green is my family name. My parents gave me both of my other names.

People don't use their middle names very muck So "John Henry Brown" is usually called “John Brown". People never use Mr., Mrs. or Miss before their first names. So you can say John Brown, or Mr. Brown; but you should never say Mr. John. They use Mr., Mrs. or Miss with the family name but never with the first name.

Sometimes people ask me about my name. “When you were born, why did your parents call you Jim?" they ask, “Why did they choose that name?" The answer is they didn't call me Jim. They called me James. James was the name of my grandfather. In England, people usually call me Jim for short. That's because it is shorter and easier than James.

Most English people have three names.

A．True.

B．False.

Most English people have three names: a first name, a middle name and the family name. Their family name comes last. For example, my full name is Jim Allan Green. Green is my family name. My parents gave me both of my other names.

People don't use their middle names very much, So "John Henry Brown" is usually called "John Brown". People never use Mr. , Mrs. or Miss before their first names. So you can say John Brown, or Mr. Brown; but you should never say Mr. John. They use Mr. , Mrs. or Miss with the family name but never with the first name.

Sometimes people ask me about nay name. "When were you born, why did your parents call you Jim?" they ask. "Why did they choose that name?" The answer is they didn't call me Jim. They called me James. James was the name of nay grandfather. In England, people usually call me Jim for short. That's because it is shorter and easier than James.

Most English people have name(s).

A．one

B．two

C．three

D．four

The Woman Taxi Driver In Cairo

  Her name is Nagat.

  I first saw her outside Cairo's airport terminal. A woman taxi driver -- the only woman, for that matter, among a large crowd of her male counterparts.

  Do you know what it is like to arrive in a strange city in the middle of the night? Nobody, not even a ray of sunshine is here to greet you. When I walk out of the terminal, I am facing the crowd of taxi drivers milling about in front of every airport the world over. Here in Cairo, it is large and noisy. "Taxi!" "You want taxi?" I hear all round me.

  I feel a firm hand holding my left arm. "You want taxi, follow me," the woman says. She doesn't ask, she simply pulls me through the crowd. I follow her willingly. There is this moment when a tourist, particularly a woman, simply has to trust someone. We stop at a worn car. It has seen a better day, there are quite a few scrapes on its body, the tires are bald and there is a crack in the windshield. But it is a car for hire, and the woman will personally drive me. I breathe a sigh of relief when she puts my bag into the trunk, locks it and gets behind the wheel. "I will drive you. don't worry," she says.

  Nagat, as she now explains to me, works as a taxi driver several days and nights a week. She has another job, working in an office, but details of it remain vague. The little old ear is not hers; it belongs to a boss from whom she in turn rents it whenever she can. She has been a driver ever since her husband died some ten years earlier and left her with two teenage kids and her parents to support.

  She knows every nook and cranny in and around Cairo -- no easy feat. Cairo with its complex system of streets and lanes, its quarters and markets is like a labyrinth invented by ancient storytellers. Hundreds of mosques -- many of which are masterpieces of Islamic architecture, old neighborhoods with houses boxed together, huge apartment buildings on the outskirts and the Nile calmly running through it; all are part of this overcrowded city.

  With a mild sense of humor around a deep core of understanding of human nature, Nagat takes control of my sightseeing schedule. Every morning punctually at nine o'clock, I can depend on seeing her short, solid frame outside the hotel lobby, her round face turning into a big smile as soon as she sees me coming down the stairs. Most every day, she wears an earth tone-colored Jellaba. Her movements are energetic and she doesn't waste any time. Her determined approach seems to have grown on a bed of economy, on the necessity to get as much done as she possibly can.

  What becomes clear to me soon as she drives me from museum to pyramid, from one part of town to the opposite, is this: she is a true exception here. Wherever we stop, be it for a cup of tea during a break or upon arriving at a historical site where her male colleagues gather in the parking area everywhere, she is being noticed. Men walk up to her in the car with questioning faces. As she tells me, they all have one question first of all: "Are you a taxi driver?" She then explains in a few short sentences, and I see the men's faces soften, smile and respectfully and kindly chat with her. This scene repeats itself over and over again. I get the sense that she invites goodwill from the people she meets.

  Nagat is proud and independent. One day, as I find her waiting outside a museum, she is just taking a spare tire out of the trunk of the taxi. One of the bald tires had finally gone flat, and she was going to change it herself. Several curious people gather around her and she receives offers of help -- but no, she wants no part of that. In her efficient, deliberate manner, she changes the tire, and having done so, washes her hands with bottled water, gets in the taxi and asks "Where to now?"

  Should you find yourself at Cairo's airport, look for Nagat outside the international arrival hall. If you are lucky, you will have a chance to see Cairo through the eyes of a woman taxi driver.

My father was, I am sure, intended by nature to be a cheerful kindly man. Until be was thirty-four years old he worked as a farmhand for a man named Thomas Butterworth whose place lay near the town of Bidwell, Ohio. He had a horse of his own, and on Saturday evenings drove into town to spend a few hours in social intercourse with other farmhands. In town he drank several glasses of beer and stood about in Ben Head's saloon—crowded on Saturday evening with visiting farmhands. Songs were sung and glasses thumped on the bar. At ten o'clock father drove home along a lonely country road, made his horse comfortable for the night, and himself went to bed, quite happy in his position in life. He had at that time no notion of trying to rise in the world.

It was in the spring of his thirty-fifth year that father married my mother, then a country school teacher, and in the following spring I came wriggling and crying into the world. Something happened to the two people. They became ambitious. The American idea of getting up in the world took possession of them.

It may have been that mother was responsible. Being a school teacher, she had no doubt read books and magazines. She had, I presume, read of how Garfield, Lincoln, and other Americans rose from poverty to fame and greatness, and as I lay beside her—in the days of her lying-in—she may have dreamed that I would someday rule men and cities. At any rate she induced father to give up his place as farmhand, sell his horse, and embark on an independent enterprise of his own. She was a tall silent woman with a long nose and troubled gray eyes. For herself she wanted nothing. For father and me she was incurably ambitious.

According to the narrator, his father's life used to be______.

A．quite poor

B．quite hard

C．quite happy

D．quite rich

Passage Three

Most English people have three names: a first name, a middle name and the family name. Their family name comes last. For example, my full name is Jim Allan Green. Green is my family name. My parents gave me both of my other names.

People don't use their middle names very much, So "John Henry Brown" is usually called "John Brown". People never use Mr. , Mrs. or Miss before their first names. So you can say John Brown, or Mr. Brown; but you should never say Mr. John. They use Mr. , Mrs. or Miss with the family name but never with the first name.

Sometimes people ask me about nay name. "When were you born, why did your parents call you Jim?" they ask. "Why did they choose that name?" The answer is they didn't call me Jim. They called me James. James was the name of nay grandfather. In England, people usually call me Jim for short. That's because it is shorter and easier than James.

44. Most English people have name(s).

A. one

B. two

C. three

D. four