[单项选择]
The Street Violinist
I got up and dressed, stuck my violin under my jacket, and went out into the streets to try my luck. I wandered about for an hour, looking for a likely spot, feeling as though I were about to commit a crime. Then I stopped at last under a bridge near the station and decided to have a try.
I felt tense and nervous. It was the first time, after all. I drew the violin from under my coat like a gun. It was here, in Southampton, with trains rattling overhead, that I was about to declare myself. One morning I was part of the hurrying crowds, the next I stood apart, my back to the wall, my hat on the pavement before me, the violin under my chin.
The fist notes I played were loud and raw, like a declaration of protest. Then they settled down and began to run more smoothly and to stay more or less in turn. To my surprise I was neither arrested nor told to shut up. Indeed, nobody took any notice at all. Then an old ma
A. a day.
B. an hour.
C. all morning.
D. all afternoon.
