The sweet taste of cold and wood smoke hung in the air. Marlin rode low in the saddle, his shoulders curled against the hungry wind. His hat was pulled down tight and his eyes didn't move as he passed the crude shacks at the edge of town. He tied his horse in front of the saloon, unwinding his long body as if a sudden movement might snap it. He turned down the collar of his greatcoat and checked to make sure his big Army Colt was loose in its holster. The saloon door was a single chunk of white pine, still oozing sap, and he had to put his shoulder to it to force it open. The long room inside was quiet, and not much warmer than the street. Clusters of people sat nursing coffee and drinks, talking quietly if they talked at all. Marlin spotted a few farmers the railroad had brought in from Europe: rounded hats, nervous eyes, skin as red as blood. At the far end of the room a half-dozen cowboys turned over cards with patient boredom. Marlin walked up to the bar. "Whiskey," he said, and when the drink came he tossed it straight down and felt it pull his lips into a grimace. He nodded for a refill. When he turned to face the room they were all watching him. "I'm looking for a man named Kraamer," Marlin said. "Anybody here know of him?" One of the cowboys turned casually and rang the spittoon with a stream of tobacco juice. Marlin knew the long, thin face from somewhere, the blond hair that fell limply to his shoulders. He smiled at Marlin and showed his brown-stained teeth. Marlin felt the lines in his own face, the gray in his hair, the chill in his bones. He was too old for this. He set a half dollar on the bar and started for the door. "Don't get in a huff," the bartender said. Marlin looked back. "Kraamer lives about a mile west of town. Follow the railroad and take the first trail south." Question: The patrons at the bar where probably there for: Options: - hours - not enough information - the entire day - the time it takes to have breakfast === The correct answer is
hours

(Question)
Shortly after five, the hospital called. More precisely, the emergency room phoned to ask if Ray had a bed. Ray pretended to consult his admission log, just as he always did. The nightly hospital call meant one of three things: the chemical dependency floor was full (highly unlikely), the individual in question had fallen under the hospital's "one treatment episode every three months" sanction (also known as the Black List, and only moderately unlikely), or the prospective client had no insurance (in Ray's experience, very likely). The folks at the hospital knew, as did Ray, that federal law prohibited him from turning away individuals requesting detoxification services if he had an open bed. The hospital was generous enough to spring for a cab voucher for the intoxicate. In Ray's experience as well, overnight admissions were less interested in detox than in free food, a free bed and complimentary meds. For his two hour paperwork investment and aggravation, he would receive the benefit of knowing the client slept until noon then slipped out the side door and into another binge. Any bills for service generated for the brief stay would return in a week or so stamped "No Such Address" or simply "Return to Sender". On average, the clients of addictions services managed to muster a raging 25% of them who would ever pay a dime toward their bill. The night shift admission payment percentages were a quarter of that quarter in good years. Thus, the frequent calls from the hospital. They had little better luck in getting good addresses (or even with those, a client who stayed sober long enough to give a shit). No one relished treating the uninsured and uninsurable. It was fiscal suicide. The hospital was perfectly willing to let the local experts in deadbeats handle the workload. Tonight, Ray could tell them no. He liked telling them no, especially when it was the truth. Question: How many things does Ray belives the nightly call from the hospital could mean? Options: - Anything - not enough information - Only one - Three === The correct answer is
(Answer)
Three

Ques: Last month we spent a few wonderful days visiting our friends Rosa and Massimo who live just outside of Trento. It was our third visit to the area (on one of them I snapped up this recipe for persimmon cake), so I feel it's about time to share some our favourite things that we've been shown by locals. Trento is only a four hour drive from Florence passing Bologna and Verona on the way, which could make very good pit stops if you feel the need to, FYI yet it feels a world away in terms of the landscape and the food, from the golden, rolling hills of Tuscany. Cue towering mountains harbouring mushrooms and berries, lush valleys and turquoise lakes, vines grown on pergolas, enormous plates of sauerkraut and polenta in abundant portions, delicious wines and rustic cakes with German names. Trento is the capital of Trentino, an unusual region of Italy because its official languages are Italian and German and it is actually made up of two self-governing provinces and is known as Trentino-Alto Adige or Trentino-Sudtirol. Confused? Since the eighth century, it has been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and only a century ago did it become Italian. It is squeezed between Lombardy and the Veneto to the west and southeast and to the north lies Austria and Switzerland. So it is no surprise that many of the food influences come from its neighbours particularly the northern ones. Eating in the region means eating heartily, even in the summer sunshine, we enjoyed abundant portions of canederli (large rustic dumplings made of bread, herbs and meat, ham or cheese in broth), masses of soft, creamy polenta with thinly sliced roast pork or sausage ragu and slow-cooked beans or thick venison steaks, sauerkraut and gnocchi (sometimes made of out of polenta). I think one waiter was highly disappointed that we weren't able to finish our gargantuan plates one hot day on a mountain with a view of the Dolomites. Somehow there was always room for dessert, though adopted from German and Austrian specialties, you can find cakes... Question: When did the author spend time visiting Rosa and Massimo? Options: - not enough information - last month - 2 months ago - 3 months ago === The correct answer is
Ans:
last month