A dialogue that lacks context is MOST likely to produce what kind of scene? •succinct and informative
•long and devoid of tone
•verbose and cluttered
•sterile and devoid of setting

"the bane of the internet" is written in first-person subjective point of view, so the narrator a) tells the story as it is happening b)tells the story as it is happened in the past c)is a minor character who tells the story as it is happening d)none of the above

He said it was because a private detective sees the dark side of human nature. but whatever the reason, gill landers had an innate suspicion of politicians. when senator randy brill walked into his office on that summer day in august, mopping his flushed features with a monogrammed handkerchief, gill could think of no good reason to change his attitude. he'd only met brill once. that had been two years ago at a country club reception for state political notables. since then, he'd learned all he wanted to know about the senator's sinister reputation. gill sat back in his chair, put his feet on his desk, and fought to keep a poker face. but there was no way he could stop the chill that coursed along his spine like a rush of ice water. 29. in this paragraph, the word notables probably signifies that the persons so described a. would like to be politicians. b. are wealthy people. c. have political influence. d. are contributors to charity.

Select the contred text in the passage which sentence in this excerpt from john galsworthy's narrative essay "gone" reflects his view that there is no afterlife? an old woman and mrs. herd's sister were in the sitting-room, they showed us to the crazy, narrow stairway. though we lived distant but four hundred yards of a crows flight, we had never seen mrs. herd before, for that is the way of things in this land of minding one's own business a slight dark girlish-looking woman, almost quite refined away, and with those eyes of the dying, where the spirit is coming through, as it only does when it knows that al is over except just the passing. she lay in a double bed with clean white sheets. a white-washed room, so low that the ceiling almost touched our heads, some flowers in a bow, the small lattice window open. though it was hot in there, it was better far than the rooms of most families in towns, living on a wage of twice as much, for here was no sign of defeat in decency or cleanliness. in her face, as in poor herd's, was that same strange minging of resigned despair and almost eager appeal, so terrible to disappoint. yet, trying not to disappoint it, one felt guilty of treachery: what was the good, the kindness in making this poor bird flutter still with hope against the bars, when fast prison had so surely closed in round her? but what else could we do? we could not give her those glib assurances that naive souls make so easily to others concerning their after state. and the night was so beautiful, so utterly glamourously beautiful, with its star-flowers, and its silence and its trees clothed in moonlight. all was tranquil as a dream of sleep. but it was long before our hearts wandering with poor herd, would let us remember that she had slipped away into so beautiful a dream