"You either change of life or you change of man" When I was married, my wife had a very complicated life to handle outside. She was always stressed from her studies, pressure and job, so she would go out, most oftenly with me, to places and times we shouldn't have been. She would just decide, in the middle of the night, even as early as 2 in the morning that we should just race the city, see places She always had those cravings to do stuff at strange times, getting to sport events with me at the other bit of the country This crazy kind of life got us in a big lot of troubles. People trying rape her, attack us and much many more. it was happening too often and I often had to be quite violent to these people so she stays in one piece. I had to fix a lot of crap in order for her to live fully her fantasy. But I was more worried for her than me and I wanted us settle down, calm and have children we could raise peacefully. There was that one night where, we both came back very late from a sport competition, we had to travel dangerous roads very late at night sometimes by bus, foot and other times subway. At one point that night, two drug addicts tried to rape her, so I did what I had to do, but still I didn't kill them. Then I shoved her and I really mean shove, inside a taxi, got in there too and asked it back home. When I arrived, she was denying the danger, denying anything wrong with her way to behave. So I really snapped, I just pulled my ring and chains away, threw them on the table in front of her and I told her the sentence I mentionned up there. I was harsh on her that night in my words and symbol but I just couldn't take that way anymore Question: The husband probably believes that: Options: - His wife could change for the best - They will continue the nightly travels - not enough information - His wife would remain the same === The correct answer is
His wife could change for the best

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The office smelled like money. Brand new carpet, somebody's expensive perfume still hanging in the air. The chairs in the waiting room are leather and the copy machine has a million attachments and there's pictures on the wall that I don't know what they're supposed to be. Made me ashamed of the shirt I was wearing, the cuffs all frayed and some of the buttons don't match. The secretary is a knockout and I figure Dennis has got to be getting in her pants. Red hair and freckles and shiny skin that looks like she just got out of a hot shower. A smile like she really means it. My name was in the book and she showed me right on in. Dennis shook my hand and put me in a chair that was slings and tube steel. The calendar next to his desk had a ski scene on it. Behind him was solid books, law books all in the same binding, also some biographies and political stuff. "Too bad you couldn't make the reunion," Dennis said. "It was a hoot." "I just felt weird about it," I said. I still did. It looked like he wanted me to go on, so I said, "I knew there'd be a bunch of y'all there that had really made good, and I guess I...I don't know. Didn't want to have to make excuses." "Hard to believe it's been twenty years. You look good. I still wouldn't want to run into you in a dark alley, but you look fit. In shape." "I got weights in the garage, I try to work out. When you're my size you can go to hell pretty quick. You look like you're doing pretty good yourself." Charlene is always pointing to people on TV and talking about the way they dress. With Dennis I could see for the first time what she's talking about. The gray suit he had on looked like part of him, like it was alive. When I think about him in grungy sweats back at Thomas Jefferson High School, bent double from trying to run laps, it doesn't seem like the same guy. Question: What is Dennis's profession? Options: - not enough information - corporate attorney - prosecuting attorney - defense attorney === The correct answer is
(Answer)
not enough information

Ques: Regular readers of Beauty Best Friend will know that wherever possible I use organic bodycare products, and that I simply adore the organic brand Botanicals. A British brand whose aim is to create products 'which are as close to nature as possible', their bodycare and skincare is simply second to none and they're certified by The Soil Association. Over the past couple of years I've tried several of their products including my favourite Cleansing Melt and I haven't found anything that I don't like yet! This month I've been trying their Deep Peace Aromatic Body Oil which arrived with me just at the right time my husband had man flu, I had a cold and I was looking after our 16 month old toddler alone. Deep Peace was just what my body was craving! I was sent a small glass bottle of the oil to try, but the full size product is a larger 100ml pump bottle (it also comes in 200ml and 1 litre bottles too). The directions say you can use it in two ways, either massage it into shoulders, neck and arms before bed, or apply it all over the body after batheing. After a bath or shower is the best time I feel as the skin is damp and warm and the Deep Peace oil helps lock moisture into the skin and the warmth helps the scent to lift. This Aromatic Massage Oil is 99% organic and the ingredients include Lavender, Rose Geranium and Orange Peel oils. The fragrance is very subtle and perfect if you don't like products that smell overpowering. It's a bit 'planty', I think it's the scent of the Rose Geranium that comes through the most, and personally I don't absolutely love the fragrance, but it's pleasant enough and it does help the head to feel calmed (even when nursing a husband with man flu!). Question: after the end of the story, what will the woman probably do? Options: - use the Cleansing Melt - buy more fragrances - not enough information - try the Aromatic Massage Oil === The correct answer is
Ans: buy more fragrances

I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. Question: What is the state of the "guests" leaving the green room? Options: - They are all sad - not enough information - Some are happy, some are sad - They are all happy === The correct answer is
Some are happy, some are sad