Section III Reading Comprehension（45 points） 阅读理解 Text 4
I remember the way the light touched her hair. She turned her head， and our eyes met， a momentary awareness in that raucous fifth grade classroom. I felt as though I‘d been struck a blow under the heart. Thus began my first love affair. Her name was Rachel， and I mooned my way through the grade and high school， stricken at the mere sight of her， tongue-tied in her presence. Does anyone， anymore， linger in the shadows of evening， drawn by the pale light of a window—her window—like some hapless summer insect？ That delirious swooning， asexual but urgent and obsessive， that made me awkward and my voice crack， is like some impossible dream now. I would catch sight of her， walking down an aisle of trees to or from school， and I’d become paralyzed.
She always seemed so poised， so self-possessed. At home， I‘d relive each encounter， writhing at the thought of my inadequacies. We eventually got acquainted and socialized as we entered our adolescence， she knew I had a case on her， and I sensed her affectionate tolerance for me. "Going steady" implied a maturity we still lacked. Her Orthodox Jewish upbringing and my own Catholic scruples imposed an inhibited grace that made even kissing a distant prospect， however fervently desired. I managed to hold her once at a dance—chaperoned， of course. Our embrace made her giggle， a sound so trusting that I hated myself for what I’d been thinking. At any rate， my love for Rachel remained unrequited. We graduated from high school， she went on to college， and I joined the Army.
When World War II engulfed us， I was sent overseas. For a time we corresponded， and her letters were the highlight of those grinding endless years. Once she sent me a snapshot of herself in a bathing suit， which drove me to the wildest of fantasies. I mentioned the possibility of marriage in my nest letter， and almost immediately her replies became less frequent， less personal.
