Ex. 12, a)

... George said his watch went wrong one evening, and stopped at a quarter past eight. He didn't know this at the time because, for some reason or other, he forgot to wind it up when he went to bed.

... It was in the winter when this happened, very near the short­est day, and a week of fog into the bargain, so the fact that it was still very dark when George woke in the morning was no guide to him as to the time.

... It was a quarter past eight. "Angels and ministers of grace de­fend us!" exclaimed George, "and here have I got to be in the City by nine. Why didn't somebody call me? Oh, this is a shame!" And he flung the watch down, and sprang out of bed, and had a cold bath, and washed himself and dressed himself, and shaved himself in cold water because there was not time to wait for the hot, and then rushed and had another look at the watch.

Whether the shaking it had received in being thrown down on the bed had started it, or how it was, George could not say, but cer­tain it was that from a quarter-past eight it had begun to go, and now pointed to twenty minutes to nine.

George snatched it up, and rushed downstairs. In the sitting- room, all was dark and silent: there was no fire, no breakfast.

... Then he dashed on his great-coat and hat, and, seizing his umbrella, made for the front door... and ran out.

He ran hard for a quarter of a mile, and at the end of that dis­tance it began to be borne in upon him as a strange and curious thing that there were so few people about, and that there were no shops open.

... Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the po­liceman, and asked him if he knew what time it was.

"What's the time?" said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion, "why, if you listen you will hear it strike."

George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged.

"But it's only gone three!" said George in an injured tone, when it had finished.

"Well, and how many did you want it to go?" replied the con­stable.

"Why, nine," said George, showing his watch. "Do you know where you live?" said the guardian of public or­der severely.

George thought, and gave the address.

"Oh! that's where it is, is it?" replied the man; "well, you take my advice and go there quietly, and take that watch of yours with you; and don't let's have any more of it."

(From "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K.Jerome)

SECTION THREE

Ex. 19.

Harry: Nora! Nora!

Nora (coming into the room): Yes, what is it now, Harry?

Harry: Oh, there you are. Look here, Nora, I'm tired of lying here on my back with nothing to do. I hate doing nothing.

Nora: Don't be silly, Harry. You've got a temperature, and staying in bed is the only sensible thing to do. Now just be quiet, and stop preventing me from doing my housework.

Harry: No, seriously, Nora, I can't bear it. Lying flat on my back!

Nora: Well then, try lying on your stomach for a change!

Harry: Stop being funny. I'm going to get up. There! Look, I'm standing up. I'm quite all right. What's the use of staying in bed?

Nora: I think you're being very silly. You'll only make your temperature go up again.

Harry: It's no use talking, Nora — being ill doesn't suit me.

N o r a: No — and trying to nurse you doesn't suit me!

Harry: Now don't be bitter about it. You know I'm grateful to you for looking after me. But you mustn't try to keep me in bed like a naughty boy.

Nora: Well, you began it by behaving like a naughty boy!

Harry: I'm all against this staying in bed for no reason.

Nora: Harry, being ill is a reason... Now don't stand by that window and catch another cold... Let me see, half past eleven.

Harry: Why do you keep looking at the clock?

Nora: I'm expecting Mother — she's coming over for the day.

Harry: Good heavens! I didn't know that.

Nora: Yes, I think she has something she wants to talk to you about.

Harry: Oh heavens! Has she (groans)... You know, Nora, I do feel a bit ill; perhaps I had better get back to bed.

Nora (disingenuously): Oh, what a pity! I thought perhaps you might stay up to see her.

H a r r y (to himself): That's the very reason I'm getting back into bed!

Nora: What did you say?

Harry: Oh, er — nothing.

(From "Meet the Parkers", Tartu, 1961)