In this task, you're given an article, a question which often contains a blank, four options (associated with "A", "B", "C", "D") and the answer to that question. Your task is to classify whether the given answer is correct or not by providing "Yes" or "No", based on the article.

Article: One's style of the dress reveals the human obsession with both novelty and tradition. People use clothing to declare their membership in a particular social group; however, the rules for what is acceptable dress for that group may change. In affluent societies, this changing of the rules is the driving force behind fashions. By keeping up with fashions, that is, by changing their clothing style frequently but meanwhile, members of a group both satisfy their desire for and obey the rules, thus demonstrating their membership in the group. There are some interesting variations regarding individual status. Some people, particularly in the West, consider themselves of such high status that they do not need to display it with their clothing. For example, many wealthy people in the entertainment industry appear in very casual clothes, such as the worn jeans and work boots of a manual laborer. However, it is likely that a subtle but important signal, such as an expensive wristwatch, will prevail over the message of the casual dress. Such an inverted status display is most likely to occur where the person's high status is conveyed in ways other than with clothing, such as having a famous face.
Question: According to the author, fashions serve all the following purposes EXCEPT
Options: (A) satisfying an interest in novelty (B) signaling a change in personal beliefs (C) displaying membership in a social group (D) following traditional rules
Asnwer: D
No

Article: My heart sank when the man at the immigration counter gestured to the back room. I was born and raised in America, and this was Miami, where I live, but they weren't quite ready to let me in yet. "Please wait in here, Ms. Abujaber," the immigration officer said. My husband, with his very American last name, accompanied me. He was getting used to this. The same thing had happened recently in Canada when I'd flown to Montreal to speak at a book event. That time they held me for 45 minutes. Today we were returning from a literary festival in Jamaica, and I was shocked that I was being sent "in back" once again. The officer behind the counter called me up and said, "Miss, your name looks like the name of someone who's on our wanted list. We're going to have to check you out with Washington." "How long will it take?" "Hard to say...a few minutes," he said, "We'll call you when we're ready for you." After an hour, Washington still hadn't decided anything about me. "Isn't this computerized?" I asked at the counter, "Can't you just look me up?" "Just a few more minutes," they assured me. After an hour and a half, I pulled my cell phone out to call the friends I was supposed to meet that evening. An officer rushed over. "No phones!" he said, "For all we know you could be calling a terrorist cell and giving them information." "I'm just a university professor," I said. My voice came out in a squeak. "Of course you are. And we take people like you out of here in leg irons every day." I put my phone away. My husband and I were getting hungry and tired. Whole families had been brought into the waiting room, and the place was packed with excitable children, exhausted parents, and even a flight attendant. I wanted to scream, to jump on a chair and shout: "I'm an American citizen; a novelist; I probably teach English literature to your children." After two hours in detention , I was approached by one of the officers. "You're free to go," he said. No explanation or apologies. For a moment, neither of us moved. We were still in shock. Then we leaped to our feet. "Oh, one more thing," he handed me a tattered photocopy with an address on it, "If you aren't happy with your treatment, you can write to this agency." "Will they respond?" I asked. "I don't know--I don't know of anyone who's ever written to them before." Then he added," By the way, this will probably keep happening each time you travel internationally." "What can I do to keep it from happening again?" He smiled the empty smile we'd seen all day, "Absolutely nothing." After telling several friends about our ordeal, probably the most frequent advice I've heard in response is to change my name. Twenty years ago, my own graduate school writing professor advised me to write under a pen name so that publishers wouldn't stick me in what he called "the ethnic ghetto"--a separate, secondary shelf in the bookstore. But a name is an integral part of anyone's personal and professional identity--just like the town you're born in and the place where you're raised. Like my father, I'll keep the name, but my airport experience has given me a whole new perspective on what diversity and tolerance are supposed to mean. I had no idea that being an American would ever be this hard.
Question: The author was held at the airport because _ .
Options: (A) she and her husband returned from Jamaica (B) her name was similar to a terrorist's (C) she had been held in Montreal (D) she had spoken at a book event
Asnwer: B
Yes

Article: When my brother Joey was 6 months old, my mother brought him home from the hospital and told me to watch him while she fixed supper. We started playing a game I called "dogs", rolling on the floor like pups . Then I looked up and saw my mother watching us. She was crying. "He's blind," she said. "The doctor told me today." I looked at Joey. He was laughing. "He can't be blind," I said. "He smiles at my face." "He smiles at your voice," she said. "He'll never see your face." That was that. Joey was blind. Mama went back to cooking. I went back to playing a dog. From the age of 8, Joey boarded at a school for the deaf and the blind, learning to read Braille . When he was 16, the school said he'd learned enough and sent him home with a Braille typewriter. At 21, Joey moved out to live on his own, he said, "like a man," in an apartment 30 miles (48 km) away. He learned to cook, clean, do his own laundry, and do almost anything else he needed. Then he met the love of his life. She, too, was blind. When Joey called to tell me, he said: "Even a blind man can fall in love at first sight." They shared 10 good years before he lost her to cancer. Painfully soon after, he also lost our mother, who was his champion, and our stepfather, who was Joey's best friend. What is left when you lose the loves of your life? My brother clung with an iron fist to three gifts: Faith, hope and love. His faith grew stronger. He always had hope. And his love for his family has never gotten weaker, despite death or disappointment. Loved ones leave, but love remains. The years ahead may prove to be his hardest. His legs are growing weaker, threatening to take away the independence he's fought so hard to keep. My sister and I often wonder what will happen if Joey can't live on his own. It's not up to us. We'll do what we can, but it's his life. He won't have it any other way. You don't find strength to do something until it's time to do it. Joey has found _ whenever he has needed it. I believe he will again.
Question: When the author's mother brought her little brother Joey back from the hospital, the author _ .
Options: (A) was sad because he couldn't see things clearly (B) immediately introduced him to the family dog (C) worried that he might steal her mother's love from her (D) had great fun playing a game with him
Asnwer: D
Yes