*Question*
Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Kadin loved the desert. Many creatures lived in the desert. Some learned to survive within her harsh burning grip. Some even learned to thrive in her, building stone monuments to themselves and living their lives surrounded in the lavish luxuries of Gods. How puny their monuments were compared to the desert herself. Where they had castles surrounded by dry moats, the desert had mountains surrounded by thousand year sandstorms. Where they had silks and the most beautiful slaves serving their every greatest desire, she had dunes that stretched for a thousand leagues and a sun that burned huge and deep crimson in the violet sky. Where desert kings, the Danken, dined on the finest food and drank the finest wine, the desert drank every drop of water from the air itself and feasted on men. Kadin knew the desert. He knew her voice whispering in the dark of night like a dangerous lover. The sound he heard now was not her voice but a cry from one trapped within the desert's teeth. It was the cry of a woman. Kadin rose from his makeshift bed in the dip of two dunes. He stood quickly, tying the leather straps of his knife belt around his waist. He pulled on his boots and silently mounted White Ash. THe mare felt his soft touch and made no sound. Kadin listened and heard the cry again. He studied the dunes in the darkness of night. THe blood moon painted the desert a deep red. He felt the echos and turned White Ash towards their origin. He rode quietly into the night. Kadin saw the glow of torchlight long before cresting the hill. He guessed four riders from the sound of their horses and confirmed it when he rose above them. Three men, now on foot, chased a woman in black across the dune. Their horses stood back, panting from a hard ride. The woman's own stallion lay dead, a black arrow buried in its flank. Question: Who is the woman? Options: A. not enough information B. A runaway princess being chased by guards C. A fugitive from the men chasing her. D. A slave running away from her masters.
**Answer**
A

*Question*
Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: At an early meeting of the British Sociological Association's "Activism in Sociology Forum" members met to discuss how we might play a more campaigning role in the world outside the academy. Pragmatically, academics tend to work long hours. We are faced with multiple and competing demands: teaching, administration, publishing, marketing, research, grant-bidding, and so on. The REF has ramped up the requirement to demonstrate the efficacy of our research in "the real world" (our impact upon society, economy, and culture rather than upon knowledge per se, or upon the academic discipline). Maybe here I suggested, as my contribution to the meeting was a chance for those of us interested in progressing social justice to lever officially sanctioned space, in our busy day-to-day lives, to do more of this sort of work? Maybe we should welcome the REF impact agenda? I learned afterwards that eminent British sociologists, whom I respect enormously, regarded such a viewpoint as "naive" and "embarrassing". Indeed, critics interpret REF as just one mode of the heightened, neoliberal, managerial control that is degrading academic life and infesting universities. So, how should we think about the REF impact agenda? Because of its obvious connections with social improvement and reform through policy action, social policy is regarded as one disciplinary area that is well-placed to meet and benefit from the impact agenda. Yet there has been surprisingly little concerted discussion amongst scholars about REF and impact. This is despite the fact that many millions of pounds of public funding accrue to the proposed or claimed impact of research (with monies channelled through research councils to individual projects or via regular, six-yearly centralised assessments of the quality of research in university departments). In addition, there is substantial funding directed toward the "impact industry"; the consultants, think tanks, PR firms, funding schemes, new software programmes, impact managers, specialist impact case study... Question: How does the author feel about PR firms? Options: A. not enough information B. He thinks they are harmful. C. He thinks they are helping. D. He thinks that they work long hours.
**Answer**
B

*Question*
Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." Question: Why was the main character impressed? Options: A. not enough information B. no work C. the wheather D. by the car
**Answer**
B