Help me, please!

3.nick spent his holidays at the seaside.4.the Browns are going to leave Moskow for Kiev.5.Mary's mother cooks tasty pancakes.6.You can show your friend Red Square and the Kremlin.
7.They were in the swimming pool yesterday.
8.Kate has got a lot of flowers in front of her house.
помогите пожалуйста нужно срочно.

Can you help me?can you milk me?....the cow.Yes,I can...the girl.
Can you help me?can you gather apples?...the tree.Yes,I can...the girl. Нужно вставить слова в нужной форме.
to ask
to answer

had just left C has just left.

Gail looked at me. She smiled and her face changed, just like it had in the
movie. She touched my arm.
'There is something else you can do for me,' she said in a quiet, warm
voice. ' I can't stay here. People have seen me. I've got to get home. Will you
help me, please?'
'Sure,' I said. 'Let's go.' I was delighted. I was excited! Perhaps Gail
would invite me into her apartment. There would be soft lights and soft
music. Anything might happen!
She smiled at me again. 'You're a nice guy,' she said.
We walked over to the Chrysler. Mike Devine's eyes were open now.
There was blood on his smart suit. When he saw Gail, he stood up and held
on to the side of my Chrysler.
'Get into this guy's car before the police come, Mike,' Gail said to the
young man.
She pulled Mike Devine by his jacket, opened the back door of the
Chrysler, and pushed him in.
'Oh,' I muttered. 'You'd like me to take him home too?'
'He lives at 9002, Hollywood Boulevard,' Gail said sweetly. 'Thank you
for your help.'
'It's a pleasure,' I replied. 'Please get in.' I opened the front passenger
door.
Gail looked puzzled for a moment, then she laughed.
'No, thanks,' she said. 'I'm taking a cab. Thank you again for your help.'
Her lips touched my cheek briefly, and then she was gone. She ran to the
sidewalk, where the doorman of the Purple Palace called a cab for her.
I watched her go, then I got into the Chrysler. There was a strange noise
coming from the back seat. I turned round. Mike Devine was being sick.
I opened the window and drove away. A few minutes later, Mike Devine was
unconscious.
9002, Hollywood Boulevard, was a tall new building with windows of
black glass. I stopped outside it and switched off the Chrysler's engine.
A doorman came out of the building and walked up to the car. He was a short,
heavy man with a small moustache.
'Hey, you can't park here, mister,' the doorman said.
I pointed at the unconscious figure lying on the back seat.
'Does he live here?' I asked.
The doorman looked at Mike. Then he opened the back door of the car,
and stepped away as the smell reached him.
'Yeah, he lives here,' the doorman replied. 'Apartment 501.'
'Help me to take him up to his apartment,' I said.