Test: Practice Test - 1 - Class 10 MCQ

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. Which reaction does Akira most fear from Chie?

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for theanswer to the previous question?

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. In the passage, Akira addresses Chie with

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. The main purpose of the first paragraph is to

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. As used in line 2, “form” most nearly means

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. Why does Akira say his meeting with Chie is “a matter of urgency” (line 32)?

Question is based on the following passage.

This passage is from Lydia Minatoya, The Strangeness of Beauty. ©1999 by Lydia Minatoya. The setting is Japan in 1920.
Chie and her daughter Naomi are members of the House of Fuji, a noble family.

Akira came directly, breaking all tradition. Was
that it? Had he followed form—had he asked his
mother to speak to his father to approach a
go-between—would Chie have been more receptive?

5 He came on a winter’s eve. He pounded on the
door while a cold rain beat on the shuttered veranda,
so at first Chie thought him only the wind. The maid
knew better. Chie heard her soft scuttling footsteps,
the creak of the door. Then the maid brought a
10 calling card to the drawing room, for Chie.
Chie was reluctant to go to her guest; perhaps she
was feeling too cozy. She and Naomi were reading at
a low table set atop a charcoal brazier. A thick quilt
spread over the sides of the table so their legs were
15 tucked inside with the heat.
“Who is it at this hour, in this weather?” Chie
questioned as she picked the name card off the
maid’s lacquer tray.
“Shinoda, Akira. Kobe Dental College,” she read.
20 Naomi recognized the name. Chie heard a soft
intake of air.
“I think you should go,” said Naomi.
Akira was waiting in the entry. He was in his early
twenties, slim and serious, wearing the black
25 military-style uniform of a student. As he
bowed—his hands hanging straight down, a
black cap in one, a yellow oil-paper umbrella in the
other—Chie glanced beyond him. In the glistening
surface of the courtyard’s rain-drenched paving
30 stones, she saw his reflection like a dark double.
“Madame,” said Akira, “forgive my disruption,
but I come with a matter of urgency.”
His voice was soft, refined. He straightened and
stole a deferential peek at her face.
35 In the dim light his eyes shone with sincerity.
Chie felt herself starting to like him.
“Come inside, get out of this nasty night. Surely
your business can wait for a moment or two.”
“I don’t want to trouble you. Normally I would
40 approach you more properly but I’ve received word
of a position. I’ve an opportunity to go to America, as
dentist for Seattle’s Japanese community.”
“Congratulations,” Chie said with amusement.
“That is an opportunity, I’m sure. But how am I
45 involved?”
Even noting Naomi’s breathless reaction to the
name card, Chie had no idea. Akira’s message,
delivered like a formal speech, filled her with
maternal amusement. You know how children speak
50 so earnestly, so hurriedly, so endearingly about
things that have no importance in an adult’s mind?
That’s how she viewed him, as a child.
It was how she viewed Naomi. Even though
Naomi was eighteen and training endlessly in the arts
55 needed to make a good marriage, Chie had made no
effort to find her a husband.
Akira blushed.
“Depending on your response, I may stay in
Japan. I’ve come to ask for Naomi’s hand.”
60 Suddenly Chie felt the dampness of the night.
“Does Naomi know anything of your...
ambitions?”
“We have an understanding. Please don’t judge
my candidacy by the unseemliness of this proposal. I
65  ask directly because the use of a go-between takes
much time. Either method comes down to the same
thing: a matter of parental approval. If you give your
consent, I become Naomi’s yoshi.* We’ll live in the
House of Fuji. Without your consent, I must go to
70 America, to secure a new home for my bride.”
Eager to make his point, he’d been looking her full
in the face. Abruptly, his voice turned gentle. “I see
I’ve startled you. My humble apologies. I’ll take no
more of your evening. My address is on my card. If
75 you don’t wish to contact me, I’ll reapproach you
in two weeks’ time. Until then, good night.”
He bowed and left. Taking her ease, with effortless
grace, like a cat making off with a fish.
“Mother?” Chie heard Naomi’s low voice and
80 turned from the door. “He has asked you?”
The sight of Naomi’s clear eyes, her dark brows
gave Chie strength. Maybe his hopes were
preposterous.
“Where did you meet such a fellow? Imagine! He
85 thinks he can marry the Fuji heir and take her to
America all in the snap of his fingers!”
Chie waited for Naomi’s ripe laughter.
Naomi was silent. She stood a full half minute
looking straight into Chie’s eyes. Finally, she spoke.
90 “I met him at my literary meeting.”
Naomi turned to go back into the house, then
stopped.
“Mother.”
“Yes?”
95 “I mean to have him.”
* a man who marries a woman of higher status and takes her
family’s name

Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. The main purpose of the passage is to

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. The central claim of the passage is that

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Woolf uses the word “we” throughout the passage mainly to

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. According to the passage, Woolf chooses the setting of the bridge because it

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Woolf indicates that the procession she describes in the passage

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Woolf characterizes the questions in lines 53-57 (“For we... men”) as both

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Which choice provides the best evidence for the answer to the previous question?

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. Which choice most closely captures the meaning of the figurative “sixpence” referred to in lines 70 and 71?

Question is based on the following passage.
This passage is adapted from Virginia Woolf, Three Guineas. ©1938 by Harcourt, Inc. Here, Woolf considers the situation of women in English society.

Close at hand is a bridge over the River Thames,
an admirable vantage ground for us to make a
survey. The river flows beneath; barges pass, laden
with timber, bursting with corn; there on one side are
5 the domes and spires of the city; on the other,
Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. It is a
place to stand on by the hour, dreaming. But not
now. Now we are pressed for time. Now we are here
to consider facts; now we must fix our eyes upon the
10 procession—the procession of the sons of educated
men.
There they go, our brothers who have been
educated at public schools and universities,
mounting those steps, passing in and out of those
15 doors, ascending those pulpits, preaching, teaching,
administering justice, practising medicine,
transacting business, making money. It is a solemn
sight always—a procession, like a caravanserai
crossing a desert. . . . But now, for the past twenty
20 years or so, it is no longer a sight merely, a
photograph, or fresco scrawled upon the walls of
time, at which we can look with merely an esthetic
appreciation. For there, trapesing along at the tail
end of the procession, we go ourselves. And that
25 makes a difference. We who have looked so long at
the pageant in books, or from a curtained window
watched educated men leaving the house at about
nine-thirty to go to an office, returning to the house
at about six-thirty from an office, need look passively
30 no longer. We too can leave the house, can mount
those steps, pass in and out of those doors,... make
money, administer justice. . . . We who now agitate
these humble pens may in another century or two
speak from a pulpit. Nobody will dare contradict us
35 then; we shall be the mouthpieces of the divine
spirit—a solemn thought, is it not? Who can say
whether, as time goes on, we may not dress in
military uniform, with gold lace on our breasts,
swords at our sides, and something like the old
40 family coal-scuttle on our heads, save that that
venerable object was never decorated with plumes of
white horsehair. You laugh—indeed the shadow of
the private house still makes those dresses look a
little queer. We have worn private clothes so
45 long. . . . But we have not come here to laugh, or to
talk of fashions—men’s and women’s. We are here,
on the bridge, to ask ourselves certain questions.
And they are very important questions; and we have
very little time in which to answer them. The
50 questions that we have to ask and to answer about
that procession during this moment of transition are
so important that they may well change the lives of
all men and women for ever. For we have to ask
ourselves, here and now, do we wish to join that
55 procession, or don’t we? On what terms shall we join
that procession? Above all, where is it leading us, the
procession of educated men? The moment is short; it
may last five years; ten years, or perhaps only a
matter of a few months longer.... But, you will
60 object, you have no time to think; you have your
battles to fight, your rent to pay, your bazaars to
organize. That excuse shall not serve you, Madam.
As you know from your own experience, and there
are facts that prove it, the daughters of educated men
65 have always done their thinking from hand to
mouth; not under green lamps at study tables in the
cloisters of secluded colleges. They have thought
while they stirred the pot, while they rocked the
cradle. It was thus that they won us the right to our
70 brand-new sixpence. It falls to us now to go on
thinking; how are we to spend that sixpence? Think
we must. Let us think in offices; in omnibuses; while
we are standing in the crowd watching Coronations
and Lord Mayor’s Shows; let us think . . . in the
75 gallery of the House of Commons; in the Law Courts;
let us think at baptisms and marriages and funerals.
Let us never cease from thinking—what is this
“civilization” in which we find ourselves? What are
these ceremonies and why should we take part in
80 them? What are these professions and why
should we make money out of them? Where in
short is it leading us, the procession of the sons of
educated men?

Q. The range of places and occasions listed in lines 72-76 (“Let us... funerals”) mainly serves to emphasize how