Read the text and do the task. Fill in each gap with an appropriate phrase from the list. Write the appropriate letter in the gap. An example (0) has been given. Note that there are more phrases than gaps. Use each phrase only once.
     That Monday in October 1943. A beautiful day (0)  __J__  of a bird. We wandered towards Fifth Avenue, where there was a parade. The flags in the wind, the thump of military bands and military feet, seemed to (1) _____, but to be, rather, a fanfare arranged in my personal honor.
     We ate lunch at the cafeteria in the park. Afterwards, avoiding the zoo (Holly said she couldn’t bear to see anything in a cage), we giggled, ran, sang (2) _____ towards the old wooden bathhouse, now gone. Leaves floated on the lake; on the shore, a park-man was fanning a bonfire of them, and the smoke, rising like Indian signals, was the only (3) _____. Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring; which is how I felt sitting with Holly (4) _____ of the bathhouse porch. I thought of the future, and spoke of the past. Because Holly wanted to know about my childhood. She talked of her own, too; but it was elusive, nameless, placeless, an impressionistic recital, though the impression received was (5) _____, for she gave an almost voluptuous account of swimming and summer, Christmas trees, pretty cousins and parties: in short, happy in a way that she was not, and never, certainly, the background of a child who had run away.
     Or, I asked, wasn’t it true that she’d been out (6) _____ since she was fourteen? She rubbed her nose. “That’s true. The other isn’t. But really, darling, you made such a tragedy out of your childhood I didn’t feel I should compete.”
     She hopped off the railing. “Anyway, it reminds me: I ought to send Fred some peanut butter.” The rest of the afternoon we were east and west worming out of reluctant grocers cans of peanut butter,  (7) _____; dark came before we’d rounded up a half-dozen jars, (8) _____. It was near the antique shop with the palace of a bird cage in its window, so I took her there to see it, and she enjoyed the point, its fantasy: “But still, it’s a cage.”
a meaningful signal
along the paths
have nothing to do with war
on her own
contrary to what one expected
smudge on the quivering air
the last at a delicatessen on Third Avenue
slipped it over
on the railings
with the buoyancy
a wartime scarcity
jumped over

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