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As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike act upon his impulse ? || It depended on the impulse

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike act upon his impulse ? || He didn't - he first thought things through

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike act upon his impulse ? || All of his friends were called slaves to impulse

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike act upon his impulse ? || He tells his chauffeur to go to the Court of General Sessions to say a personal word to the judge

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike act upon his impulse ? || He usually went for it, but gave himself time to think first

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Why was it a charming morning ? || The traffic policemen who cleared the way for him were charming

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Why was it a charming morning ? || Some genius of memory

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Why was it a charming morning ? || It was cold and grey but he was somehow happy

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Why was it a charming morning ? || Spring was at full tide, and the air was clean and sweet

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Why was it a charming morning ? || He enjoyed thinking of details of his daily routine, found it charming

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the Wisest Man 's name ? || Arnold Spear

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the Wisest Man 's name ? || Mr. Arnold Thorndike

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the Wisest Man 's name ? || Arnold Thorndike

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the Wisest Man 's name ? || Spear Thorndike

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the Wisest Man 's name ? || Spear

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || The purchase of a railroad, the Japanese loan, the new wing to his art gallery, an article in a newspaper he owned attacking his favorite trust, and that a young man named spear was going to be sentenced for theft

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || The salutes

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || The daily news

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || His mother

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || His daily routine, before he started thinking of Spear

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was Arthur Thorndike thinking of on his morning drive ? || The policemen that cleared the way for him

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Who did Mr. Thorndike tell to " Stop at the Court of General Sessions " ? || The policemen who cleared the way for him

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Who did Mr. Thorndike tell to " Stop at the Court of General Sessions " ? || Young Spear

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Who did Mr. Thorndike tell to " Stop at the Court of General Sessions " ? || The Chauffeur

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Who did Mr. Thorndike tell to " Stop at the Court of General Sessions " ? || The judge

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike describe the weather of the day ? || He says the spring air is sweet and clean and the sun is warm. He calls it a charming morning

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike describe the weather of the day ? || Charming, even though cold

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike describe the weather of the day ? || Charming, the air is sour and filled with strange things

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

How does Mr. Thorndike describe the weather of the day ? || Okay, warm

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was the weather like ? || It was spring, the air was clean and sweet

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was the weather like ? || Predator

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was the weather like ? || Charming, but cold

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was the weather like ? || Ugly

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What was the weather like ? || Cold and gray

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the name of the shy , silent stenographer about to be put in jail for theft ? || Spear

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the name of the shy , silent stenographer about to be put in jail for theft ? || Arnold

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the name of the shy , silent stenographer about to be put in jail for theft ? || Thorndike

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What is the name of the shy , silent stenographer about to be put in jail for theft ? || The probation officer

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What did Mr. Thorndike want to do at the Court of General Sessions ? || He wanted to help young Spear

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What did Mr. Thorndike want to do at the Court of General Sessions ? || He liked the walk from there to his home

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What did Mr. Thorndike want to do at the Court of General Sessions ? || Speak with the district attorney or Judge personally

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What did Mr. Thorndike want to do at the Court of General Sessions ? || He wanted to see the judge

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

What did Mr. Thorndike want to do at the Court of General Sessions ? || He needed to do some business in relation to the Japanese loan

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Mr. Thorndike mentions impulses -- what does he say ? || He's a slave to impulses

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Mr. Thorndike mentions impulses -- what does he say ? || That his friends say he is a slave to impulses because he tends to act quickly, but those impulses have led to his success

1True

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Mr. Thorndike mentions impulses -- what does he say ? || He's glad he never listen to his impulses

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Mr. Thorndike mentions impulses -- what does he say ? || He hates impulses

0False

As his car slid downtown on Tuesday morning the mind of Arnold Thorndike was occupied with such details of daily routine as the purchase of a railroad , the Japanese loan , the new wing to his art gallery , and an attack that morning , in his own newspaper , upon his pet trust . But his busy mind was not too occupied to return the salutes of the traffic policemen who cleared the way for him . Or , by some genius of memory , to recall the fact that it was on this morning young Spear was to be sentenced for theft . It was a charming morning . The spring was at full tide , and the air was sweet and clean . Mr. Thorndike considered whimsically that to send a man to jail with the memory of such a morning clinging to him was adding a year to his sentence . He regretted he had not given the probation officer a stronger letter . He remembered the young man now , and favorably . A shy , silent youth , deft in work , and at other times conscious and embarrassed . But that , on the part of a stenographer , in the presence of the Wisest Man in Wall Street , was not unnatural . On occasions , Mr. Thorndike had put even royalty— frayed , impecunious royalty , on the lookout for a loan — at its ease . The hood of the car was down , and the taste of the air , warmed by the sun , was grateful . It was at this time , a year before , that young Spear picked the spring flowers to take to his mother . A year from now where would young Spear be ? It was characteristic of the great man to act quickly , so quickly that his friends declared he was a slave to impulse . It was these same impulses , leading so invariably to success , that made his enemies call him the Wisest Man . He leaned forward and touched the chauffeur 's shoulder . " Stop at the Court of General Sessions , " he commanded . What he proposed to do would take but a few minutes . A word , a personal word from him to the district attorney , or the judge , would be enough .

Mr. Thorndike mentions impulses -- what does he say ? || He likes acting upon his impulses rarely, from time to time

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the profession of the first man in line ? || Die-Cutter

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the profession of the first man in line ? || Judge

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the profession of the first man in line ? || He was a die-cutter by profession

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Does it appear that the man is speaking directly to the judge ? || No

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Does it appear that the man is speaking directly to the judge ? || Yes

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the stenographer 's name ? || Stenographer's name was Spear

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the stenographer 's name ? || Thorndike

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was the stenographer 's name ? || Andrew

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Who spoke up on behalf of the wife ? || District attorney

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Who spoke up on behalf of the wife ? || The court attendant

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Who spoke up on behalf of the wife ? || Judge

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Who spoke up on behalf of the wife ? || The probation officer

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Would the first man line 's wife take him back ? || The man's wife stated she would take him back

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Would the first man line 's wife take him back ? || No

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Was the first man in line a good husband ? || Maybe

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Was the first man in line a good husband ? || Mr. Thorndike

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Was the first man in line a good husband ? || No

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Was the first man in line a good husband ? || Yes

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Was the first man in line a good husband ? || The man's wife stated that he could not have been a better husband to her

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || Die-Cutter

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || Mr. Thorndike was a financier

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || Judge

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || the court-room

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || assistant district attorney

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

What was Mr. Thorndike 's occupation ? || stenographer

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Did the woman speak good things about her husband ? || No

0False

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Did the woman speak good things about her husband ? || Yes

1True

Mr. Thorndike had risen , and , in farewell , was holding out his hand to Andrews . He turned , and across the court - room the eyes of the financier and the stenographer met . At the sight of the great man , Spear flushed crimson , and then his look of despair slowly disappeared ; and into his eyes there came incredulously hope and gratitude . He turned his head suddenly to the wall . Mr. Thorndike stood irresolute , and then sank back into his chair . The first man in the line was already at the railing , and the questions put to him by the judge were being repeated to him by the other assistant district attorney and a court attendant . His muttered answers were in turn repeated to the judge . " Says he 's married , naturalized citizen , Lutheran Church , die- cutter by profession . " The probation officer , her hands filled with papers , bustled forward and whispered . " Mrs. Austin says , " continued the district attorney , " she 's looked into this case , and asks to have the man turned over to her . He has a wife and three children ; has supported them for five years . " " Is the wife in court ? " the judge said . A thin , washed - out , pretty woman stood up , and clasped her hands in front of her . " Has this man been a good husband to you , madam ? " asked the young judge . The woman broke into vehement assurances . No man could have been a better husband . Would she take him back ? Indeed she would take him back . She held out her hands as though she would physically drag her husband from the pillory . The judge bowed toward the probation officer , and she beckoned the prisoner to her .

Did the woman speak good things about her husband ? || Maybe

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Why did Rachel stop dancing with him || She was heading to the bar

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Why did Rachel stop dancing with him || Vowing

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Why did Rachel stop dancing with him || She was with another guy

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Why did Rachel stop dancing with him || She did not like the song

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What phrases draw a parallel between this party scene and a typical church scene . || "The DJ's moving sermon," and "people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air"

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What phrases draw a parallel between this party scene and a typical church scene . || It was just a little set-up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share, mostly beer

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What phrases draw a parallel between this party scene and a typical church scene . || A couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ’s moving sermon. On the dance floor, people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Who was the girl he was dancing with || Rachel

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

Who was the girl he was dancing with || Sarah

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was the man standing in front of when the crowd split ? || Officials

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was the man standing in front of when the crowd split ? || A blue light

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was the man standing in front of when the crowd split ? || Pastor

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

How many times is the image of " blue " used ? || 2

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

How many times is the image of " blue " used ? || 5

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

How many times is the image of " blue " used ? || 4

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What jacket did he describe that was memorable || White atlas

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What jacket did he describe that was memorable || Blue velvet

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was left when the crucifix was taken down from the wall at the old vaulted church ? || Altar clothes

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was left when the crucifix was taken down from the wall at the old vaulted church ? || Three bolts

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What was left when the crucifix was taken down from the wall at the old vaulted church ? || Three bolts in the wall

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What visual evidence suggests this building used to be a church ? || The altar, the confessional box, and the bolts on which a crucifix was hung

1True

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What visual evidence suggests this building used to be a church ? || The overall architecture and crosses on the roof

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What visual evidence suggests this building used to be a church ? || DJ's toolkit and his beer

0False

The old vaulted church was stripped down : there was no cloth on the altar , just a DJ 's toolkit and his beer . Through the dark , I could see three bolts left in the wall from where they 'd taken down the crucifix . A confessional too beaten - up to have been sold was shaking in a way that suggested activity inside , and where the pews had been taken out , a couple hundred people were testifying to the DJ 's moving sermon . Rachel stepped forward into the crowd while I took a moment to drink in the ceiling 's blue - lit , shadowed vault and the light - catching haze from who - knows - what rising between the DJ and the crowd . There was a terrific echo , each beat reverberating inside of the next , and the old stained - glass windows rattled in their frames . On the dance floor , people moved with their eyes closed and their hands in the air . I danced with Rachel for a while , but then something by the bar seemed to be pulling her eyes . She told me that she was heading for a drink and slipped out of the crowd . When she had n't come back halfway through the next song , I glanced over at the bar . It was just a little set - up where someone had stacked a few crates and brought something alcoholic to share , mostly beer . Rachel was standing with a plastic cup , looking like she was having a conversation , but I could n't see anyone else there . The next time the crowd split , I saw him . He stood in front of a blue light , so I could n't see him clearly , but what I saw was memorable . He wore a jacket of what might have been blue velvet , and his hair gleamed black against his white skin . The blue haze seemed to stop just shy of his pallor , setting off his striking face without illuminating its details , and his wrists flashed white in the darkness . He did n't move , just stared and held his drink . The next time I saw them , his mouth was moving . She nodded and he took her arm . I watched them through the crush of dancers as they squeezed along the wall , and the feeling came to me that something was very wrong . Saturday morning , I woke up and saw that she still had n't come home .

What visual evidence suggests this building used to be a church ? || Three bolts left in the wall from where they’d taken down the crucifix

1True