Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Yes recently! I have joined a B-School recently. New friends, new syllabus, new place and new subjects! With all these new things, I got a new assignment which was supposed to be submitted in 3 days. Our teams were formed and we, together had to submit it. From dawn to dusk, we worked hard on that Economics project. I worked with each and every person in the group. I didn't know how to plot a triple axis graph in excel, I learnt that day at 2 am. Our group also learnt many new things and we gave our 100% to that report. I, in my entire academic life, have never been careless towards the submission. I always submitted reports or assignments before time. Anyway, the submission day finally arrived. I had told one of the group members to print the report out and bind it and bring to the college with her. The lecture is scheduled at 2:00 pm. I called her for about 30 times asking where she was. She didn't pick up any of our calls. There she entered the lecture hall at 2:07 pm and our professor being a strict one, rejected our project. Everything was washed out. Our efforts were washed away. What was the reason of she being late? Traffic! It's simple assumption that if you stay in a city like Mumbai, you at least leave your house 11.30 hours before. Being loyal is toxic sometimes. We all lost our individual credits for the subject plus the internals will get affected which is altogether different story. Guys, if you are working for a group of members, please please respect their hard work. Put yourself in their shoes snd imagine their hard work. Never ever mix your Professional commitments with personal problems. Peace! Question: The author believes that Options: A. Traffic in Mumbai is reasonable B. not enough information C. He should have printed the report himself D. His classmate was to blame for the group failure.
D

Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Greg said goodbye to his last student at 8:15 PM, locked up the studio, and got into his car. He always looked forward to his evening rendezvous with Bonnie--his nickname for the Bonneville. He liked to put her top down, and drive her around town in the moonlight. Their route varied from night to night, but the ultimate destination was never in question. "May I help you?" The worn-out speaker was crackly, but he still recognized the particularly twangy East Texas voice of Fontana Fry. Over his six years of vocal training, he had become acutely aware of accents. This is true of all classically trained singers. Great emphasis is placed on precise pronunciation and enunciation. It is mandatory that the singer's repertoire include works written in English, Latin, Italian, German, and French. So, by the time Greg finished his graduate degree, his accent had been all but eliminated. He sounded somewhat like a network news anchor instead of an East Texan. "I would like a large--" "--a large dipped cone, the usual. Right?" The Dairy Queen drive-thru ordering station was located out in front of the restaurant, on the right side. He looked up, and saw the 19 year-old waving at him. She looked so cute in her little Dairy Queen outfit. Fontana was in her first year at Kilgore College. She planned to be an elementary teacher. He knew she would be a good one. Greg had met Fontana a few months earlier when she brought her 13-year-old brother to the studio to enroll for guitar lessons. The boy was holding a U.S. made, 1968 Harmony acoustic guitar his uncle gave him. The body and the frets were badly worn, but the instrument still played beautifully. It looked somewhat like a large violin, with arched top and f-holes. That shape produces a more mellow sound than flattops. And the guitar's age contributed additional warmth to the tone. Question: After getting an ice cream Greg willprobably: Options: A. Go to his studio B. Drive around town C. Give a guitar lesson D. not enough information
B

Q: Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: What would you do you're driving past hundreds of citrus trees. With a better look, they're mandarins, or, more precisely clementines. On the roadside is a truck selling crates of them for 1 euro a kilo. You stop, right? And buy a crate of 10 kilos. Even though you have to get on a plane the next day. I couldn't help myself. Marco, who I had already made turn 180 degrees to drive back to the truck, gave me that look of disapproval when I want to do something totally unreasonable like impulse buy citrus fruit that we can't keep. "What are we going to do with these?" He questioned. I wasn't sure. I wanted to taste them, I wanted to photograph them. And maybe I could even squeeze some of them into our tiny bag to take home. "It won't be a waste, I'll give the rest away!" I reasoned. He just shook his head, giving in. I bought them, a big grin on my face. We were just outside the port city of Taranto, on the western coast of Puglia in Italy's deep south, where we spent a long weekend recently and where clementines have special IGP (Protected Geographical Indication) status. These clementines a hybrid of oranges and mandarins grow in the fertile soil around the gulf of Taranto, particularly around the town of Palagiano (also known as "the city of clementines" they celebrate the symbol of their city with a sagra, a food festival, every December) and the delicate fruit is harvested by hand. We don't get these in Florence, it was my only chance to taste them they are small with very few, if any, seeds, and they are very sweet. Question: What does the narrator probably do for fun? Options: A. not enough information B. Buy fruit C. Travel to other places D. pick oranges
A: C

*Question*
Read the following context and choose the correct option to answer the question. Context: Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Question: Morzeny believed that the cold: Options: A. Made him sell more apartments B. Made him insane C. Made his beginning stage arthritis worse D. not enough information
**Answer**
C