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7. How can you explain the title of the story?

8. Retell the story.

14. Заполните таблицу:

ОТВЕТ:

Should We Say What We Think, or Think What We Say?

A mad friend of mine says that the main word of the age is Make-Believe. He claims that all social intercourse is founded on make-believe. A servant enters to say that Mr. and Mrs. Bore are in the living-room.

“Oh, damn!” says the man.

“Hush!” says the woman. “Shut the door, Susan. How often am I to tell you never to leave the door open?”

The man creeps upstairs on tiptoe and enters his study room. The woman tries not to show her feelings, and then enters the living-room with a smile. She looks as if an angel has arrived. She says how delighted she is to see the Bores – how good it was of them to come. Why did they not bring more Bores with them? Where is naughty Bore junior? Why does he never come to see her now? She will have to be really angry with him. And sweet little Flossie Bore? Too young to visit friends! Nonsense.

The Bores, who had hoped that she was not at home – who have only come because the etiquette book told them that they had to come at least four times in the season, explain how they have been trying and trying to come.

“This afternoon,” says Mrs. Bore, “we decided to come for sure. ‘John, dear,’ I said this morning, ‘I shall go and see dear Mrs. Bounder this afternoon, no matter what happens.’”

It looks like the Prince of Wales, who wanted to visit the Bores, was told that he could not come in. He might call again in the evening or come some other day.

That afternoon the Bores were going to enjoy themselves in their own way; they were going to see Mrs. Bounder.

“And how is Mr. Bounder?” asks Mrs. Bore.

Mrs. Bounder remains mute for a moment. She can hear how he goes downstairs. She hears how the front door softly opens and closes.

And thus it is, not only with the Bores and Bounders, but even with us who are not Bores or Bounders. Any society is founded on the make-believe that everybody is charming; that we are delighted to see everybody; that everybody is delighted to see us; that it is so good of everybody to come; that we are desolate at the thought that they really must go now.

What will we prefer – to stop and finish our cigar or to hasten into the living-room to hear Miss Screecher’s songs? Miss Screecher does not want to sing; but if we insist – We do insist. Miss Screecher consents. We are trying not to look at one another. We sit and examine the ceiling. Miss Screecher finishes, and rises.

“But it was so short,” we say. Is Miss Screecher sure that was the end? Didn’t she miss a verse? Miss Screecher assures us that the fault is the composer’s. But she knows another. So our faces lighten again with gladness.

Our host’s wine is always the best we have ever tasted. No, not another glass; we dare not – doctor’s orders, very strict. Our host’s cigar! We did not know they made such cigars in this world. No, we really cannot smoke another. Well, if he insists, may we put it in our pocket? The truth is, we do not like to smoke.