My uncle has a very beautiful umbrella. He has had it for years. As he is very careful with it, it still looks as {#blank#}1{#/blank#} as new. I asked my uncle if he bought it or someone {#blank#}2{#/blank#} him as a gift. He shook his head. “Then how did you get it?” I asked. “Well, ” he answered, “there is a strange true story {#blank#}3{#/blank#} the umbrella. About ten years ago, I {#blank#}4{#/blank#} along a quiet London street one evening when it suddenly rained. I had {#blank#}5{#/blank#} raincoat or umbrella. Gradually, it got quite dark. And the people in the streets were fewer and fewer. Because I was on my way to a party, I was afraid {#blank#}6{#/blank#} wet. So I stood in a doorway and waited for the rain to stop. No buses ran through the street and there were no taxis. What was worse, there even wasn't a person around, and still it rained and rained. At last a young man came to the place {#blank#}7{#/blank#} I was standing. He held a large umbrella over his head. As I hoped he would allow me to walk to the next comer with him, where I could get a taxi, I stepped out of the dark doorway where I had been standing. I asked him where he was going with that umbrella. As I suddenly appeared before him, the young man was so shocked that he{#blank#}8{#/blank#} the umbrella. He ran away and disappeared into the darkness. I picked up the umbrella and continued my walk. I knew it would be hard in this big city to find the {#blank#}9{#/blank#} of the umbrella, so I {#blank#}10{#/blank#} it ever since then.”