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Outline

1. Avis is shaken by the results of her investigation (the more she thought ... the more shaken she was; to be monstrously treated; down in the depths of; to have a feeling that ...; to stand on the edge of a precipice; to be'about to see; to have an effect on smb).

2. Avis speaks to Colonel Ingram who turns out to be two different persons (to know smb well; graceful, diplomatic, tactful, considerate; as for his appearance; distinguished-looking; to mention Jackson's name; to vanish like a ghost; to distort smb's face; to look out for a way of escape; to be trapped; to be sick of the sound of; it was inconsiderate of; to bring up the matter; (not) to count personal feelings; to receive damages; to have got nothing to do with the law; to blush; to block one's way; to overturn a palm).

3. Avis speaks to people of her own class (to hold most of the stock; to talk to smb in fatherly ways; to patronize smb's youth and inexperience; to provide employment for smb; to be scattered over the country; social activities; to patronize the university; to grow irritated; to refuse flatly; to be glad of the opportunity; to make it plain; to tempt smb to do smth; to hurt oneself in the machinery; to pay for accidents).

1. The change in Avis's outlook after the investigation of Jackson's case.

2. The class Avis belonged to and her attitude towards it.

3. Law and justice in bourgeois society as shown in the excerpts from "The Iron Heel".

4. The struggle of the working people for their rights in capitalist countries today.

REVISION 1

PRACTICE MAKES PERFECT

I. Reproduce the following situations based on the works of famous English and American authors. Make sure that you use the active vocabulary:

I

1. After the Micawbers moved to another town David felt very lonely and decided to run away to Dover and look for his only relative Miss Betsy Trotwood. They had never been in touch, but David hoped that his aunt would let him stay with her.

2. It took David a whole week to get to Dover. When he reached the town he wandered aimlessly about the streets for some time as

he did not dare to ask anybody for help. He was afraid he might be taken for a beggar and sent to a work-house.

He really did look terrible. His eyes were red from lack of sleep and his clothes were ragged and shabby, and he had no jacket.

3. Towards evening he found himself on the outskirts of Dover. He felt faint with hunger and fatigue. No wonder, for he had hardly eaten anything on the way (it was not surprising, for he had hardly eaten...)!

4. He sat down by a garden fence and burst into bitter tears: he had lost all hope of ever finding his aunt.

He must have fainted from hunger and exhaustion; when he came to and looked up he saw an elderly woman standing in front of him. There was a severe expression on her face.

It was none other than Miss Betsy Trotwood, but David did not know that, as he had never seen his aunt.

"Boy, what are you doing here? Go away!"

David did not move. He only stared at the woman.

"Go away, do you hear?" she said sharply.

The voice must have roused David from his state of wretchedness. He rose, holding on to the fence.

"I'm looking for Miss Betsy Trotwood, but nobody knows where she lives," David said, making a great effort to pull himself together.

5. There was a silence. An expression of amazement appeared on the woman's face. For a few seconds she stared at David as if trying to remember something...

"Why, you are David Copperfield, aren't you?" she suddenly exclaimed. "You look very much like my poor nephew. My God! How cruelly they have been treating you... but I'll take revenge on them..."

The next minute she was dragging David towards the house.

David was scared out of his wits.

II

1. When I was twenty-seven years old, I was a mining-broker's clerk in San Francisco. I was alone in the world, and had nothing to depend upon but my wits and a clean reputation; but I hoped to be rich some day.

My time was my own on Saturday afternoons, and I used to spend it on a little sail-boat on the bay. One day I ventured too far, and was carried out to sea. Just at nightfall, when hope was about gone, I was picked up by a small brig which was bound for London. It was a long and stormy voyage, and they made me work my passage without pay, as a common sailor. When I stepped ashore in London my clothes were ragged and shabby, and I had only a dollar in my pocket. This money fed and sheltered me for twenty-four hours. During the next twenty-four I went without food and shelter.

2. I was slowly walking along the street, looking at passers-by when I felt I was being followed. I looked back and saw an elderly man behind me.

"What do you want of me? Why are you following me?"

"Excuse me, could you come to that house with me?" he said, pointing to a house on the other side of the street. "They are waiting impatiently for you there."

I was about to say "No, I won't" but checked myself. I was curious to know what it was all about.

"They must have taken me for somebody else," I thought, following the man.

3. I was shown into a richly-furnished dining-room. There were two gentlemen there. They were having breakfast. At the sight of the delicious food on the table I felt giddy. I stood staring at them holding tight on to the chair. I hoped that they would give me something to eat, but they did not even offer me a cup of tea!

4. "We've been watching you for some time and have come to the conclusion that you are the right man for us," said one of them.

"We have decided to offer you a job," said the other.

My wonder grew. "What job?" I asked.

They did not seem to pay any attention to my question, as the one who spoke to me first said; "We won't go into details. Here's a letter for you. It explains everything. We wish you luck. We hope that you will live up to our expectations. Good-bye."

5. The servant showed me to a front door and I again found myself in the street.

The street seemed unfamiliar to me. For a while I stood in front of the closed door without understanding what had really happened and what those two gentlemen wanted from me.

"They must have been playing a trick on me," I thought. "If I had known that nothing would come of it I would never have gone in there. No doubt they've taken me for somebody else," I thought, and started off down the street.

"Can they really have played a trick on me?! If they did I shall get even with them somehow..."

6. I was so angry that I completely forgot about the letter they had given me. Only after I had calmed down a little did I find it in my pocket. What I saw in the envelope was beyond my wildest hopes. There was money in it!

"What a fool I am to have been carrying such a treasure in my pocket! If I had opened the envelope earlier I would already be sitting in a restaurant ordering a good dinner!"

And I rushed to a cafe which I had noticed round the corner.

7. At first the owner wouldn't let me in, saying that his cafe .was not a charity institution. I understood that he had taken me for a beggar. "Don't worry, I'll pay," I said, taking out the money and holding it out to the owner. The sight of the money must have struck him dumb because he stared at the bank-note in amazement, unable to utter a word.

It was then that I saw what I was holding in my hand! I nearly fainted. A million-pound bank-note!

For a while we were both silent. I was the first to pull myself together and said as if nothing extraordinary had happened: "I am sorry if it is inconvenient for you to change it, but I don't happen to have any other money with me..."

My voice seemed to have roused him from his state of shock and he came to himself again. He made a thousand apologies for not being able to change the bank-note. He kept on looking at it, but shrank from touching it as if it were something sacred. Then he stammered out: "Pardon me, sir, I don't at all mind your having lunch in my cafe... I wish you would always have your meals here... anything you wanted, any time you choose..."

After lunch I read the letter. For some reason the gentlemen wanted me to use the money in any way I pleased and return it in a month.

III

1. Alice and Jane were artists. They lived on the outskirts of New York in a small studio. They worked at a porcelain factory where they earned a poor living. But they had one treasure - their friendship - which helped them to bear every hardship.

One night on the way home from the factory Jane felt a sharp pain in her chest.

"What's the matter with you, dear?" Alice asked anxiously. "You don't look well."

"I must have caught cold. But it's nothing serious, I think."

"You'd better get into bed at once," said Alice, looking at her friend's swollen eyes. "I'll give you hot tea and put a mustard plaster on your chest. Let's hope that it will be gone by morning."

"And what if it isn't?" asked Jane. "What am I to do then?"

"Then we'll call in a doctor."

"And what about my work? I can't stay away from work, I'll be sacked."

"One day won't matter. It'll be deduced from your pay. Don't worry, dear. Get into bed," Alice said, trying to speak in a calm, steady voice.

But she knew only too well what might happen if Jane was taken seriously ill.

All night Jane tossed and turned, unable to get to sleep. In the morning she had a splitting headache and breathed with difficultly.

"You'll have to call in a doctor," whispered Jane, and Alice could hardly recognize the girl's voice in this weak hoarse whisper.

2. The doctor examined the sick girl and said: "The case is serious, she has pneumonia. You should have had a doctor in earlier, but with proper care she will recover in a couple of weeks."

Proper care! Couple of weeks! Alice thought anxiously. She would certainly do her best, but she had only a few dollars left to pay the doctor, and they had fallen behind with their rent already!

Alice held out the few dollars she had and said:

"Excuse us, but we don't have (haven't) enough money to pay you now. I'll give you the rest in a day or so."

The doctor frowned. He was about to say something but thought better of it.

3. For a week the patient's state was very serious. Alice looked after her friend, trying not to show her anxiety. She did not grudge the expense. She sold everything that could be sold. She worked day and night, but she earned very little.

At last Jane recovered. She immediately started looking for a job. Every day she left the house in the morning and came back home in the evening tired and hungry. But there was no job for her. There were hundreds of unemployed crowding the factory gates and offices. Jane was in despair.

IV

1. Old Ellsworth's daughters were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. In spite of the fact that they spied on the old man day and night and took every precaution to prevent him from buying unnecessary things, their efforts were in vain. Old Ellsworth would not listen to anybody.

The only person who seemed to enjoy his confidence was Doctor Caswell. The latter spared no effort to cure the old man of his illness, but so far all his attempts had failed. However, Doctor Caswell lacked neither patience nor persistence, and he did not lose hope.

2. One day Doctor Caswell came to visit his patient. The old man was sitting in his armchair reading a newspaper. When the doctor came into the room the old man put the newspaper aside and said mockingly, looking the doctor up and down.

"Well, doctor, have you got something new to offer me today?"

"You're right, Mr. Ellsworth. A brilliant idea has occurred to me. Why shouldn't you take up art? I'm sure you'll make a good artist... How does the idea strike you?"

"But, doctor, I haven't got the slightest idea about how to paint! I've always been a businessman. How can I ..."

Mr. Ellsworth checked himself. "Well, now that I come to think of it, I don't mind learning a bit of painting..."

"Fine, it's settled then, Mr. Ellsworth. We shall find a young artist to teach you and you will very soon get acquainted with modern art," the doctor said cheerfully.

3. That day Doctor Caswell spoke to the old man's daughters and explained to them what he was going to do.

"Dear Doctor, we have grave doubts whether it will cure the old man of his mania, but we agree to everything (consent to it)."

"I assure you, it is a splendid method of treatment. I wish I had suggested it earlier. If I had thought of it some years ago, Mr. Ellsworth would be quite well now and would not be giving you so much trouble."

4. The whole of the next week the old man was busy reading books on art. Then a student from the Art School began to teach him painting. It was quite a job! But the student needed money and he did everything he could to please Mr. Ellsworth.

5. One day the student suggested going to the local gallery to see an exhibition of modern art which had just opened there. The old man was about to refuse but then all of a sudden he agreed, as if an idea had struck him.

At the exhibition the old man got into conversation with cne of the visitors. The student did not interfere. He did not even know what was the subject of their conversation. He only noticed that the old man looked very pleased.

All the way home old Ellsworth was in high spirits. He kept talking about art, about the pictures which he had just seen and about how glad he was to have taken up art.

The student wondered as he listened to him. Never before had he seen the old man in such a splendid mood. He thought that painting was really doing him good.

6. When old Ellsworth returned home, he declared:

"I'm going to have my pictures exhibited at the gallery next week. I bet you anything my pictures will be the best."

Everybody kept silent. The pictures the old man was painting were monstrous, but nobody argued. They were afraid that he might have a heart attack if he got angry. It did not occur to anybody that the old man had already devised a plan to get even with them.

You know what happened afterwards.

Naturally the student was to blame for everything. He should not have let the old man speak to the stranger at the exhibition. What could the poor student have done?

V

"Now I'm going to tell you about a funny thing that happened in our family," began Herman Thurber, "if I had not seen it with my own eyes I would never have believed it. This is how it all happened.

One night my younger brother Roy could not get to sleep. He had a headache and was slightly feverish. He had been tossing and turning for a long time when all of a sudden a brilliant idea struck him. He decided to play a joke on Father.

The clock had just struck two when Roy stole into Father's bedroom which was next to his. He shook Father by the shoulder and said in a low voice: "Get up! Your time has come!"

Father awoke and for a while stared at Roy without understanding anything.

"What's the matter? Why aren't you in bed? Has anything happened to Mother?"

"Get up, your time has come," repeated Roy, without paying attention to Father's questions.

"He must have gone mad! He's been sick the whole day... we should have called a doctor," thought poor Father.

Trying to keep his presence of mind Father said in a gentle voice as if nothing had happened:

"Wait for me here. I'll be back in a minute."

He flung the door open and rushed to his wife's bedroom.

"Get up, I think Roy must be seriously ill. He's been saying such strange things!"

"You must have had a bad dream!" said Mother. "It's those detective stories you read. If you did not read them before you went to bed, you would never have nightmares."

"You are free to think whatever you please, but I tell you, I've just been talking to him. I can't have imagined it. You, you, all of you take me for an idiot..." Father began, losing his temper completely.

"Oh, please, don't get agitated, it's bad for you. I'm sure Roy is sleeping peacefully in his room."

2. Meanwhile Roy had got into bed and was pretending to be a-sleep. When Father and Mother entered his room Roy seemed to be fast asleep. Mother said:

"The boy is not to blame. You've had a bad dream and waked everybody up. You shouldn't have been reading that book you bought yesterday when you were in bed. You must be convinced now that reading it is not doing you any good."

Father was silent, unable to understand enything.

That night he did not sleep a wink. One thought went through his mind, "And what if I really did dream all that?"

At breakfast he resumed the conversation trying to convince them that Roy had come to his bedroom in the night. But nobody believed poor Father.

II. Insert prepositions if necessary:

1. The girl arrived ... the town ... a Friday morning. 2. The professor was still ... his vacation and she left a message ... him ... his secretary. 3. She wished she could get this job. It meant a lot ... her. 4. Everyone's impression ... him was quite favourable. 5. There was something kind and sincere ... the old man. 6. She couldn't help sympathizing ... him. 7. He would have been amazed ... any expression of sympathy. 8. Have you ever had any experience ... dealing ... children? 9. He apologized ... the hostess ... coming so late. 10. The accident prevented him ... arriving ... time. 11. We doubted ... the truth ... his story. 12. He failed to convince us ... the truth ... his story. 13. ... dinner we asked him many questions ... his immediate plans. 14. Would you care ... a walk? 15. He insisted ... taking us ... the garden. 16. We'd better join ... the ladies. 17. You shouldn't wonder ... his saying this. 18. He has always been rude ... his sister. 19. She couldn't help bursting ... tears. 20. The boy trembled ... the thought that somebody might catch him. 21. He fainted ... nervous excitement. 22. She felt faint ... fatigue. 23. If any of our friends call ... us tell

them to wait a little. 24. He was dozing ... the newspaper when the telephone rang. 25. They were glad to stay ... us ... a week. 26. She could repeat the message word ... word. 27. It was difficult to cure him ... this habit. 28. She has been having treatment ... kidney trouble ... some time. 29. The witnesses testified ... him ... the trial.

III. Read the story and retell it. Then, using it as a basis, think of sentences which will contain clauses of unreal condition:

Model: If Pyecraft had taken his friend's advice, nothing would have happened to him.

THE TRUTH ABOUT PYECRAFT

I made the acquaintance of Pyecraft in the smoking-room of the club. I was a young, nervous new member, and he saw it. I was sitting all alone, wishing I knew more of the members, and suddenly he came, a great rolling figure, and sat down in a chair close by me, and lit a cigar, and then addressed me. I forgot what he said - something about the matches not lighting properly, and afterwards as he talked, he kept stopping the waiters one by one as they went by, and telling them about the matches in his thin piercing voice. But, anyhow, it was in some such way we began our talking. He talked about various things and came round to games. And then to my figure and complexion. I suppose I am slender, slender to what some people would call lean, and I suppose I am rather dark, still - I am not a-shamed of having a Hindu great-grandmother, but, for all that, I don't want casual strangers to point it out. So that I was set against Pyecraft from the beginning.

But he only talked about me in order to get to himself.

"I expect," he said, "you take no more exercise than I do, and probably you eat no less." (Like all excessively fat people he fancied he ate nothing.) "Yet" - and he smiled a cunning smile - "we differ."

And then he began to talk about his fatness and his fatness; and all he did for his fatness and all he was going to do for his fatness; what people had advised him to do for his fatness and what he had heard of people doing for fatness similar to his. "I'd give anything to get it down," he said, staring at me, "anything."

He came to the actual thing one day. "Our Pharmacopoeia," he said, "our Western Pharmacopoeia, is anything but the last word of medical science. Yet, in the East I've been told..."

He stopped and stared at me. There was something in his manner as though he knew I might help him.

I was quite suddenly angry with him. "Look here," I said, "who told you about my great-grandmother's recipes? Every time we've met for a week you've given me a broad hint about that secret of mine."

"I had it from Pattison," he said and pursed his mouth.

"Pattison," I said, "took that stuff at his own risk. My great-grandmother's recipes are queer things to handle. Even the smell of them... No! I do not darel"

But it was impossible to get rid of him. I felt annoyed and at last I said, "Well, take the risk!"

Next day I brought the recipe Pyecraft had been asking for.

"Look here," I said to Pyecraft, "so far as I can make it out, this is a recipe for Loss of Weight. I'm not absolutely sure, but I think it's that. And if you take my advice, you'll leave it alone. Because, you know, Pyecraft, my ancestors on that side were, so far as I can gather, a jolly queer lot. See?"

"Let me try it," said Pyecraft.

I leant back in my chair. "What in Heaven's name, Pyecraft," I asked, "do you think you'll look like when you get thin?"

He refused to listen to reason. I made him promise never to say a word to me about his disgusting fatness again whatever happened - never, and then I handed him the recipe.

For a month after that I saw Pyecraft constantly at the club and as fat and anxious as ever. He kept our treaty, but at times he broke the spirit of it by shaking his head despondently.

I could have fancied he had given up the whole thing when I saw him one day talking to three new members about his fatness as though he was in search of other recipes. And then, quite unexpectedly, his telegram came.

"For Heaven's sake come. - Pyecraft."

I got Pyecraft's address from the hall porter and started off.

A woman with an anxious face opened the door for me. I gave my name and she said, "Mr. Pyecraft is waiting for you." And then, confidentially, "He locked himself in yesterday morning and hasn't let anyone in since, sir."

When I knocked at the door I could hear a curious pattering upon it almost like someone feeling for the handle in the dark. But for a long time the door didn't open. Then I heard the key turn and Pyecraft's voice said, "Come in."

I turned the handle and opened the door. Naturally I expected to see Pyecraft. Well, you know he wasn't there! I never had such a shock in my life. There was his drawing-room in a state of untidy disorder, plates and dishes among the books and writing things, and several chairs overturned, but Pyecraft ─ ─

"It's all right, shut the door," he said, and then I discovered him.

There he was right up close to the cornice in the corner by the door, as though someone had glued him to the ceiling. His face was anxious and angry. He panted and gesticulated.

"How the deuce," said I, "are you holding on up there?"

"It's that prescription," he panted, as he tried to climb down the wall to me. "Too successful. Loss of weight - almost complete."

And then, of course, I understood. "By Jove, Pyecraft, what you wanted was a cure for fatness! But you always called it weight! You would call it weight!"

Somehow I was extremely delighted. I quite liked Pyecraft for the time. "Let me help you," I said, and took his hand and pulled him down. "Hold tight to the door!"

I lit a cigar. "Tell me," I said, "what happened?"

"I took a little sip first. It tasted beastly."

"Yes?"

"And as I felt lighter and better after an hour, I decided to take the draught, and then I kept on getting lighter and lighter -- and helpless, you know."

He gave way suddenly to a burst of passion. "What the goodness am I to do?" he said.

"There's one thing pretty evident," I said, "that you mustn't do. If you go out of doors you'll go up and up." I waved an arm upwards.

And then there was another burst of passion, and he kicked, out at adjacent chairs and banged the floor. He spoke of me and my great-grandmother with an utter want of discretion.

"I never asked you to take the stuff," I said.

And generously disregarding the insults he was putting upon me, I sat down in his armchair and began to talk to him in a sober, friendly fashion.

I pointed out to him that this was a trouble he had brought upon himself. He had eaten too much. This he disputed, and for a time we argued the point.

"And then," said I, "you committed the sin of euphemism. You called it, not Fat, which is just and inglorious, but Weight. You ─ ─"

He interrupted to say that he admitted all that. What was he to do?

I suggested he should adapt himself to his new conditions. I said that it would not be difficult for him to learn to walk about the ceiling with his hands ─ ─

I spent two whole days at his flat and found myself almost keenly interested. I made all sorts of ingenious adaptations for him - fixed an inverted bed, ran a wire to bring his bell within reach, turned all his electric light up instead of down, and so on. It was delightful to think of Pyecraft like some great, fat blow-fly, crawling about on his ceiling, and never, never, never coming to the club any more...

Then you know, my fatal ingenuity got the better of me I was sitting by the fire drinking his whisky, and he was up in his favourite corner by the cornice, fixing a Turkey carpet to the ceiling, when an idea struck me.

"By Jove, Pyecraft!" I said, "all this is totally unnecessary."

And before I could realize the complete consequences of my nol ion I blurted out. "Lead underclothing," said I, and the mischief was done.

Pyecraft received the thing almost in tears.

I gave him the whole secret before I saw where it would take me. ''Buy sheet lead," I said, "stamp it into discs. Sew 'em all over your underclothes until you have enough. Have lead-soled boots, carry a bag of solid lead, and the thing is done! Instead of being a prisoner here, Pyecraft, you may travel ─ ─You need never fear a shipwreck. All you need do is just slip off some or all of your clothes, take the necessary amount of luggage in your hand, and float up in the air ─ ─"

In his emotion he dropped the hammer within an ace of my head.

"By Jove!" he said. "I shall be able to come back to the club againl"

The thing pulled me up short. "By Jove!" I said, faintly. "Yes, of course - you will."

(After H. G. Wells)

IV. Read the text and translate it into Russian paying careful attention to the use of the modal verbs. Make up another dialogue with the same structural patterns:

THE LOST TIN-OPENER

Maggie, Robert, Jane and Jim are English tourists. They are travelling over Europe by car. Now they have stopped in a small town for a few days. Maggie has been shopping. She has just come back.

Robert: Oh, there you are at last, Maggie. We're absolutely starving. I hope you've bought a lot of food.

Maggie: Certainly. Here you are: two tins of herring in tomato sauce, one tin of stuffed paprikas and a tin of beef. Pass me the tin-opener and I'll make you some stew.

Robert: Where did you pack the tin-opener? It isn't with the cutlery.

Maggie: I may have put it in with the cooker.

Robert: No, it isn't with the cooker either. You must have forgotten to take one.

Maggie: No, I can't possibly have forgotten the tin-opener. It's always the first thing I think of when I'm packing. I must have put it in some very safe place, only now I can't remember where.


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