| Questions 51- 55 are based on
tile following passage. In response to his rough summons, I had entered the room and shut the door quietly behind me. There was a pause of complete stillness in which the buzzing of the bees among the pink roses sounded as loud as a flight of aircraft. I said, "Grandfather?" on a note of painful hesitation. His voice was harsh when he spoke, and the words uncompromising, but I had seen him wet his lips and make the attempt twice, "Well, Annabel?" I went quickly across the room and knelt down beside the sofa and put my hands on his lap, on top of the old rug. His thin hand, with its prominent blue-knotted veins, came down hard over mine, surprisingly strong and warm. In the end it was easy to know what to say. I said quite simply, "I'm sorry, Grandfather. Will you have me back?" The hand moved, holding mine together even more tightly. "If I said no," said Grandfather crisply, "it would be no more than you deserve." He cleared his throat violently. "We thought you were dead." "I'm sorry." His other hand reached forward and lifted my chin. He studied my face, turning it towards the light of the window. I bit my lip and waited, not meeting his gaze. He said nothing for a long time, then, as harshly as before, "You've been unhappy, haven't you?" I nodded. He let me go, and at last I was able to put my forehead down on the rug so that he couldn't see my face. He said, "So have we," and fell silent patting my hand. Questions: |