I left my pen on the desk and now it's gone; who__________it?A.tookB.has takenC.will takeD.had taken
I left my pen on the desk and now it's gone; who__________it?
A.took
B.has taken
C.will take
D.had taken
B.has taken
C.will take
D.had taken
参考解析
解析：考查时态。此处用现在完成时表示过去发生的动作对现在的影响或结果，即笔不见了是由于某人已经把它拿走了。故选B。
相关考题：
程序 include void main() { char str[][10]={ ”ok!”,“pen”,”book”,”desk”}; int i; for(i=1;i A.ok! penB.pen bookC.ok! pen bookD.ok! pen book desk
3． —Don’t you know he left a note on your desk?—_______．I haven’t gone home for a long time．A． Yes，l doB． No，l don'tC． Yes，l don'tD． No，l do
On my desk is a photo that my father took of________ when I was a baby.A. himB. hisC. meD. mine
AThis is a picture of my bedroom． It is a nice room． The door is here． And a foot-ball is behind it． My desk is near the window． You -can see a chair behind the desk．You can see some books and flowers on it． My English books are in my backpack． The bag is now behind the chair．( )21．It’s a picture of __________．A．my familyB．my bedroomC．my desk
一What's the problem，Harry?一_____________A. No problemB. I can't remember where I left my glassesC. No trouble at all
When I ___school this morning, it ___, so I used my raincoat. A.left, was rainingB.was leaving, was rainingC.had left, was rainingD.left, rained
－Where()the recorder? I can’t see it anywhere.－I()it right here, but now it’s gone. A、did you put; have putB、have you put; putC、had you put; have putD、were you putting; have put
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. What did mother do with her daughter's letter asking forgiveness?A.She had never received the letter.B.For years, she often talked about the letter.C.She didn't forgive her daughter at all in all her life.D.She read the letter again and again till she died.
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The passage shows that _______A.mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughterB.mother was too serious about everything her daughter had doneC.mother cared much about her daughter in wordsD.mother wrote to her daughter in careful words
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The writer began to love her mother's deskA.after mother diedB.before she became a writerC.when she was a childD.when mother gave it to her
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. What's the best title of the passage?A.My Letter to MotherB.Mother and ChildrenC.Mv Mother's DeskD.Talks hetween Mother and Me
根据下列内容，回答186-190题。I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mothersat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I de-cided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during herfinal illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said a-gain, "it's for Elizabeth."I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. Butas a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy fami-ly. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she didforgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disap-pointment, then little interest and, finally, peace--it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't besure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and ! could stop try-ing to make her into someone she was not.Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased thatwriting was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photoof my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letterasks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.The writer began to love her mother's desk__________.A.after mother diedB.before she became a writerC.when she was a childD.when mother gave it to her
I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth." I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface". As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not. Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words. The word "gulf" in the passage means _______A.deep understanding between the old and the youngB.different ideas between the mother and the daughterC.free talks between mother and daughterD.part of the sea going far in land
Do you know the girl over there?（）AHow can I know?BYes, I remember it now.CIt's Sam, my teacher's daughterDShe is a good girl.
– What's the problem, Harry?-（）A、I can’t remember where I left my glassesB、No problem at allC、Thank you for asking me about it
— What's the problem, Harry? --- （）A、No problemB、No trouble at allC、Thank you for asking me about itD、I can’t remember where I left my glasses
Do you know the girl over there?（）A、How can I know?B、Yes, I remember it now.C、It's Sam, my teacher's daughterD、She is a good girl.
单选题Do you know the girl over there?（）AHow can I know?BYes, I remember it now.CIt's Sam, my teacher's daughterDShe is a good girl.
单选题There’s no reason to ______ me to do it now. I’ll do it on my own later.ApunishBcontrolCforceDinsist
单选题He’s always been kind to me—I can’t just turn my ______ on him now that he needs my help.AheadBearCbackDhand
单选题– What's the problem, Harry?-（）AI can’t remember where I left my glassesBNo problem at allCThank you for asking me about it
单选题I set off as soon as I got the news about my grandpa’s illness. Unfortunately, he _____ at the hospital before I _____.Ahas died; went thereBhad died; arrivedCdied; had been thereDwas dying; had gone