Question: Roland felt his stomach knotting. Having ridden out of the city through the Saint-Denis Gate, he now was nearly home, and the hurt inside was cutting so deep that he thought it would drive him mad. He repeated again and again the pledge he had just made to Nicolette: I am your true troubadour, now and forever. It felt like a knife stabbing into him. I do love her, as I have not loved any other - except Diane. Under his fur-lined mantle he was sweating, despite the bone-deep chill of the January night. Was my pledge to Nicolette a lie? No, not now that Diane has vowed herself to God. He had always believed that a man or a woman could love but one person. For all the years he had loved Diane, he had accepted that as a sacred law of Love. It was the way things should be. But it was not the way they were. Not for him. What if I had known, that day I saw Nicolette at Chinon, that Diane was still alive? I would have wanted Nicolette just as much, but would not have begun this. There would have been no messages, no song in her garden. But I was sure Diane was dead. There was nothing but a memory of a younger time to check my feelings for Nicolette. And then, when I found Diane again, I could not have her. I had lost her forever. So at last I wrote again to Nicolette. But tonight, when Nicolette would have let me make love to her - and how I want her! - I could not go beyond an embrace and a kiss. Not as long as I still love Diane. When he had set out, a full moon had hung low above the huddled rooftops of the university town. Now the silver disk was high overhead, and he could discern the small house he had bought two years ago with money he brought with him from Sicily. Where did Roland see Nicolette? - A Garden - A University Town - Chinon - not enough information
Answer: Chinon

Question: We gave Tiger swimming lessons in our plastic wading pool. I taught the kitten the way Pa taught me: I threw him into water where he could not stand, and I watched, ready to grab him if he went under. Tiger did not thrash desperately like me. He merely paddled urgently for the edge of the plastic pool with his head high and his thin legs churning. Little Bit said, "Dog paddle," and we all laughed. "Tiger paddle," I said, and we all laughed some more, even Jordy. That was probably when Ma noticed the kitten swimming lessons and stopped them. Our swimming lessons happened in two places. When Pa took us, we went to Hawkins Springs behind Mrs. DeLyons' Fountain of Youth Motor Hotel. When Ma took us, we drove to Mermaid Springs State Park, where we would sometimes meet Mr. Drake. I liked Mermaid Springs better because I felt safe there. Ma could not swim, so she never made me jump off a dock into deep water, and she always insisted that I wear an orange styrofoam cylinder on my back like a skindiver or spaceman. Ma usually sat on a towel on the grass near the beach, reading a magazine or a book while tanning her legs. Every now and then she would call to us not to go too far or not to splash each other. When she wore her one-piece red swimming suit, she would come in up to her waist, then lower herself to her shoulders, being careful not to get her hair wet. On the rarest occasions, she would wear a swimming cap and float on her back in the shallow water. Often she stayed in her shorts and shirt, adding sunglasses and removing shoes as her concession to summer and the beach. Why did Ma probably sit on a towel on the grass? - She liked how the towel felt against her skin - not enough information - The grass would cause her to itch, the towel made it more comfortable - She wanted the towel in case she swam
Answer: The grass would cause her to itch, the towel made it more comfortable

Question: William White sat across from me, fidgeting nervously with an empty packet of artificial sweetener while his coffee went cold, ignored on the table in front of him. He rolled the torn yellow paper up like a tight little spliff, then unrolled it, smoothed it out flat, and then rolled it again. I was midway through my third cup of coffee with no intention of stopping soon. I was tired and edgy, irritated at William for dragging me out at this time of night, and getting even more irritated at his refusal to get to the point. 'Did you know Philip K. Dick had a twin sister?' I stared at him blankly. 'Her name was Jane. She died shortly after their birth. They were six weeks premature,' he continued, his eyes drifting off to the window to his right. I wasn't sure if he was looking at something through it or staring at his own reflection in it. 'Dick never got over Jane's death; her ghost haunted him throughout his life, and the idea of a phantom twin pops up throughout his work. Some have even speculated that Dick's inability to make peace with the loss of his sister contributed to his drug abuse, and by extension also his death at the relatively young age of 53.' He unrolled the sweetener packet, laid it on the table, placed both index fingers together in its center, and then spread them outward, smoothing the paper flat. I reached out and slammed my own hand on top of the packet, preventing him from fiddling with it anymore. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly. I let out a sigh. 'Not that this isn't fascinating, but did you seriously call me out to Denny's at 3 am for this?' Who is Phillip Dick? - not enough information - Their teacher. - Their neighbor. - Their mutual friend.
Answer:
not enough information