Problem: OPTIONS:
- Because they were from India.
- Because they were Black Dutch from a part of Holland.
- not enough information
- Because they were from Africa
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: It was a dream, then a place, then a memory. My father built it near the Suwannee River. I like to think it was in the heart of Florida, because it was, and is, in my heart. Its name was Dogland. Some people say you can know others if you know the central incidents that shaped their lives. But an incident is an island in time, and to know the effect of the island on those who land there, you must know something about the river they have traveled. And I must warn you before we begin, I don't know that river well. I visit that time and place like a ghost with poor vision and little memory. I look up the river and see fog rolling in. I look down the river, and the brightness of the approaching day blinds me. I see shapes moving behind me and beyond me, but who they are and what they do, I cannot say. I will tell what I know is true, and I will invent what I believe is true, and that, I think, is all you can ask any storyteller to do. I learned the Nix family history from the stories Pa told. Even at the age of four, I suspected that Pa's stories might not be perfectly true. When Pa said we Nixes came to North America as indentured servants working our way out of debtor's prison, Grandma Bette would make a face and say he couldn't know that. When he said we Nixes had Lakota and Ojibwe blood in our veins, Grandma Bette would say she wasn't prejudiced, but it simply wasn't so: she and Pa and his brothers and sisters were dark because her people were Black Dutch, from a part of Holland where everyone had black hair and black eyes. And then Grandma Bette wouldn't say a word for half an hour or more, a very long time for Grandma Bette to be quiet. Question: Why did Grandma Bette say that the family had black hair and black eyes? Answer:
Answer: Because they were Black Dutch from a part of Holland.

Problem:OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- divorced
- Fortunate
- Happy

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I have been married twice. My wedding experiences were both very different, even though I cried at both ceremonies. At my first wedding, I had been doing a lot of manual labor in the day prior to the wedding. Unfortunately, I did not have any gloves, and I ended up getting a lot of blisters on my hands. By the evening of the wedding, these blisters were very painful to touch. My bride was wearing what I thought to be an elaborate wedding dress. It was pretty, and it had a lot of buttons on it. Little, white, cloth covered buttons. These buttons were also a part of her sleeves and gloves. During the ceremony, she was holding my hands very tightly, and it hurt. I mean, it really really hurt! I didn't want to pull my hands away, as the gesture could be misconstrued, and I might hurt her feelings. So, I stood and held hands with her, enduring the pain. Although I managed to remain silent, I couldn't keep the tears from falling down my face. The more I cried, the harder she squeezed and the more painful it was. She always thought that I was crying due to emotion on our wedding day, and I never told her any differently I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Some years after that lengthy incarceration ended, I was fortunate to wed again. I had not done any manual labor before our wedding day. My hands were fine. Also, my bride did not have a lot of intricate buttons on her dress, nor did she wear gloves or even have sleeves. We were wed on a beach, just the two of us. No one else was in attendance. We had written our own vows, in fact, our own ceremony, including our own rituals. And yes, I cried, because I was / am so in love with my bride. I still tear up every morning when I awaken and see her sleeping beside me. Peace Question: After the first marriage he was? Answer:
****
A: divorced

input: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- that she likes the bus
- that Tiffany is a good friend
- that Mrs.Wilson looks great Now, answer this question: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: That day, my mother picked me up from school, wearing the yellow sundress and shawl I remembered from our trip with Father the year before. She looked just like she did most days back then--a glamour queen, a movie star ("Just like Lena Horne," my friend Chloe had once said, "only darker--oh, sorry, Leah!"), but today her beauty somehow had a harder, more defiant edge to it. I could smell the expensive Dior perfume as soon as I opened the door, which surprised me, because my mom was usually fastidious about not getting perfume on her clothes. She was wearing her bug glasses--huge dark things with lenses that bulged out like fly eyes and reflected my face like a fun-house mirror. She had tied a yellow silk scarf around her hair and was taking deep pulls on a cigarette held between two immaculately manicured fingers. Only I knew about the nicotine stains she carefully covered with her special order "forest sable" cream each morning. Tiffany, a stupid but vicious senator's daughter who I had the misfortune of sharing a classroom with, suddenly dashed from inside the school, her face flushed. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson," she called. Before my mother could respond, she giggled and ran back to three of her friends waiting beyond the door. I could hear them laughing, but I was glad I couldn't understand their words. They were all fascinated with my mother--the black housekeeper who dressed like Katharine Hepburn and drove a Cadillac, whose daughter's "light toffee" skin indicated that she might just like her coffee with a lot of cream. Sometimes I hated those girls. "Get in the car, Leah," my mother said. Her already husky voice was pitched low, as though she'd been crying. That made me nervous. Why was she here? "Ma, Chloe was going to show me her dad's new camera. Can't I go home on the bus?" My mom pulled on the cigarette until it burned the filter, and then ground it into the car ashtray--already filled with forty or so butts. She always emptied out the ashtray each evening. Question: What does Leah probably believe? Answer:
A:
output:
that Mrs.Wilson looks great