Husband and Wife - Test 1

C2 Proficiency · Gapped Text · Proficiency Testbuilder, 4th Edition, Mark Harrison, Macmillan

You are going to read an extract from a novel. Seven paragraphs have been removed from the extract. Choose from the paragraphs A–H the one which fits each gap (1–7). There is one extra paragraph which you do not need to use.

Husband and Wife

Not very inspiring, he thought guiltily, assessing the situation in the light of Joan's projected foray into the world of work. 'I meant it, you know. You go ahead, make enquiries, find out the sort of thing you'd enjoy.' But the false heartiness in his tone did not deceive and she bit her lip, glanced away from him.

'Nonsense,' he said. 'We've always said you would, when the children were old enough.' 'Oh, I know you've always said you wouldn't mind. But that's very different from not minding when it actually happens,' she replied. 'Anyway, I thought you'd more or less made up your mind to do an art course.'

She went back to her book. Thanet picked up the newspaper. He hadn't been reading for more than a few minutes, however, when he realised that Joan was unusually restless. Normally, when she was reading, she plunged at once into total absorption. On one occasion, Thanet had counted up to a hundred from the time he asked her a question to the moment when she looked up, eyes unfocused, and said, 'What did you say?'

'I wanted to speak to you about it first. Oh, darling,' and she came to kneel before him, took his hands, 'you're sure you don't mind?' 'No,' he lied valiantly, 'I knew, of course, that the time would come, sooner or later …'

He grinned. 'To be honest, yes. But I know what you mean.' 'Do you?' she said eagerly. 'You don't think I'm being stupid?'

And so it was that on this blustery March evening, blissfully unaware of the nasty little shock that Fate was preparing for him, he stretched his toes out to the fire, settled back into his armchair and reflected that he wouldn't change places with any man in the world.

And she was right, of course, he was. They had been married for eight years now and for all that time Joan had been the good little wife who stayed at home, ran the house efficiently and without fuss, coped with two children and made sure that everything was geared to Thanet's convenience. Unlike the wives of so many of his colleagues, Joan had never complained or nagged over the demands of his job, the irregular hours.

To his surprise, she still did not respond. 'Joan?' He was beginning to feel the first faint stirrings of alarm. She shook her head slowly then, a fierce little shake. 'Oh, it's all right. There's nothing wrong, not really. It's just that I've a nasty feeling you aren't going to like what I'm trying to pluck up the courage to say.'

Detective Inspector Luke Thanet was a happy man. He had an interesting job, no pressing financial worries, two healthy, lively children and, perhaps best of all, a wife who was all that any man could wish for.

Reaching for his pipe, he tapped it out, scraped it, inspected it, blew through it, then filled it with loving care. 'It's nine o'clock,' Joan said. 'D'you want the news?' 'I don't think so. Do you?' 'Not particularly.'

Now she fidgeted, crossed and re-crossed her legs, fiddled with her hair, chewed the tip of her thumb. Eventually, 'Book no good?' Thanet enquired. She looked up at once. 'Mmm? Oh, it's all right. Very interesting, in fact.' 'What's the matter, then?' She hesitated, gave him a speculative look. He laid down his newspaper. 'Come on, love. Out with it.'

'Oh?' he said, warily. She looked at him with something approaching desperation. 'It's just that … oh dear … Look, you know we've said all along that when Ben starts school I'll go back to work? Well, that's only six months away now. So I really ought to start thinking about what I want to do.' 'I see,' Thanet said slowly. 'There you are. I knew you wouldn't like it.' 'Darling, don't be silly. It's just that, well, the idea will take a bit of getting used to after all this time, that's all.' 'Don't pretend,' she said. 'You're dead against it really, aren't you? I can tell.'

Now, in a flash, he saw all of that changing. Uncomfortable adjustments would have to be made, there would be inconvenience, irritation, arguments. Theory and practice, he now realised, were very different matters. All very well, in the past, to contemplate with equanimity the prospect of Joan returning to work one day, but to accept that that day was almost here … No, he didn't like it at all.

'No. Oh, I did consider it seriously, at one time. I'm very interested, as you know. But … I don't know, I'd like to feel I was doing something, well, less self-indulgent, more useful. Oh, dear, does that sound horribly priggish?'

'Not in the least. What sort of thing did you have in mind?' 'Well, that's the trouble. I'm just not qualified for anything. That's why I feel I ought to start thinking about it now, so that if I have to do a course, or any special training, I can get organised for September.' 'Yes, I can see that. You haven't gone into it yet, then?'

Very much later, he told himself, as he drove to work next morning. And preferably not at all.

Detective Inspector Luke Thanet was a happy man. He had an interesting job, no pressing financial worries, two healthy, lively children and, perhaps best of all, a wife who was all that any man could wish for. ___ Reaching for his pipe, he tapped it out, scraped it, inspected it, blew through it, then filled it with loving care. 'It's nine o'clock,' Joan said. 'D'you want the news?' 'I don't think so. Do you?' 'Not particularly.' ___ Now she fidgeted, crossed and re-crossed her legs, fiddled with her hair, chewed the tip of her thumb. Eventually, 'Book no good?' Thanet enquired. She looked up at once. 'Mmm? Oh, it's all right. Very interesting, in fact.' 'What's the matter, then?' She hesitated, gave him a speculative look. He laid down his newspaper. 'Come on, love. Out with it.' ___ 'Oh?' he said, warily. She looked at him with something approaching desperation. 'It's just that … oh dear … Look, you know we've said all along that when Ben starts school I'll go back to work? Well, that's only six months away now. So I really ought to start thinking about what I want to do.' 'I see,' Thanet said slowly. 'There you are. I knew you wouldn't like it.' 'Darling, don't be silly. It's just that, well, the idea will take a bit of getting used to after all this time, that's all.' 'Don't pretend,' she said. 'You're dead against it really, aren't you? I can tell.' ___ Now, in a flash, he saw all of that changing. Uncomfortable adjustments would have to be made, there would be inconvenience, irritation, arguments. Theory and practice, he now realised, were very different matters. All very well, in the past, to contemplate with equanimity the prospect of Joan returning to work one day, but to accept that that day was almost here … No, he didn't like it at all. ___ 'No. Oh, I did consider it seriously, at one time. I'm very interested, as you know. But … I don't know, I'd like to feel I was doing something, well, less self-indulgent, more useful. Oh, dear, does that sound horribly priggish?' ___ 'Not in the least. What sort of thing did you have in mind?' 'Well, that's the trouble. I'm just not qualified for anything. That's why I feel I ought to start thinking about it now, so that if I have to do a course, or any special training, I can get organised for September.' 'Yes, I can see that. You haven't gone into it yet, then?' ___ Very much later, he told himself, as he drove to work next morning. And preferably not at all.

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