Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
juvenile delinquent Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Tick-de-tock, tick-de-tock , whispered the antique clock on the first floor of the house. There was no sound save for the ticking—and for the pounding of Ronnie's heart. He stood alone in his upstairs bedroom. His slender-boned, eight-year-old body trembling, perspiration glittering on his white forehead. Daddy's coming, Daddy's coming. The soft shadows of September twilight in this year of 2056 were were like a web of taut-drawn wires. Sound and movement below. Mom flicking off the controls of the kitchen's Auto-Chef. The slow stride of her high heels through the living room. The slamming of a gyro-car door. The opening of the front door of the house. what ?" More murmuring. Gogh, Cezanne, Dali. The faces seemed to be mocking him. Ronnie felt like a wounded bird falling out of the sky. make trouble, will you?" "This is between you and me, son. We don't care about anyone else." "Well, it was Kenny Davis. He—" "You went to that shack ? You actually—" five hundred books." Ronnie's voice quavered. "Go on," said Dad sternly. video or hear on the tapes." "How long ago did all this start? "T—two years ago." years—" He shook his head unbelievingly. "Maybe it's my own fault. Maybe I shouldn't have come to this small town. I should have taken a "David," said Mom, very seriously, almost as if she were praying, "it won't be necessary to have him memory-washed, will it?" Dad looked at Mom, frowning. Then he gazed at Ronnie. His soft-spoken words were as ominous as the low growl of thunder: "I don't know, Edith. I don't know." Low-Confidential, Confidential, High-Confidential, Secret, Top-Secret. And all this information will be in writing. No matter what you do, you'll have access to some of this information at one time or another." there might be criticism, controversy, opposition by certain groups. The less people know about things, the better. So we have to keep all these things secret." Ronnie scowled. "But if things are written down, someone has to read them, don't they?" "Sure, son. One person in ten thousand might reach the point where his corporation or bureau will teach him to read. But you prove your ability and loyalty first. By the time you're 35 or 40, they might want you to learn to read. But for young people and children—well, it just isn't done. Why, the President himself wasn't trusted to learn till he was nearly fifty!" Dad straightened his shoulders. "Look at me. I'm only 30, but I've been a messenger for Secret material already. In a few years, if things go well, I should be handling Top -Secret stuff. And who knows? Maybe by the time I'm 50 I'll be giving orders instead of carrying them. Then I'll learn to read, too. That's the right way to do it." job that's not so important. Like a barber or a plumber or—" "Don't you understand? The barber and plumbing equipment corporations and—" "Ronnie!" "Damn it, son, how could you even think of being a Reader? You've got "B—but, Daddy—" Dad jumped to his feet. "I hate to say it, Edith, but we've got to put this boy in a reformatory. Maybe a good memory-wash will take some of the nonsense out of him!" Ronnie suppressed a sob. "No, Daddy, don't let them take away my brain. Please—" Dad stood very tall and very stiff, not even looking at him. "They won't take your brain, just your memory for the past two years." A corner of Mom's mouth twitched. "David, I didn't want anything like have the mind of a six-year-old child again. He'd have to start to school all over again." know what to do." He looked up abruptly, as if struck by a chilling new thought. "You can't keep a two-year memory-wash a secret. I never thought of that before. Why, that alone would mean the end of my promotions." Silence settled over the room, punctuated only by the ticking of the antique clock. All movement seemed frozen, as if the room lay at the bottom of a cold, thick sea. "David," Mom finally said. "Yes?" "There's only one solution. We can't destroy two years of Ronnie's memory—you said that yourself. So we'll have to take him to a Dad interrupted: "But he'd still remember how to read, unconsciously going to psychiatrists for the rest of his life." Thoughtfully he laced his fingers together. "Edith, what kind of a book was he reading?" A tremor passed through Mom's slender body. "There were three books on his bed. I'm not sure which one he was actually reading." Dad groaned. " Three of them. Did you burn them?" "No, dear, not yet." "Why not?" "I don't know. Ronnie seemed to like them so much. I thought that maybe tonight, after you d seen them—" "Get them, damn it. Let's burn the filthy things." Mom went to a mahogany chest in the dining room, produced three faded volumes. She put them on the hassock at Dad's feet. touching a rotting corpse. "Old," he mused, "—so very old. Ironic, isn't it? Our lives are being wrecked by things that should have been destroyed and forgotten a hundred years ago." A sudden frown contorted his dark features. Tick-de-tock, tick-de-tock , said the antique clock. "A hundred years old," he repeated. His mouth became a hard, thin line. "What do you mean, David?" Dad nodded at the clock, and the slow, smouldering anger returned to his face. "It's back to the 1940's." Mom's face paled. "I don't understand." time of birth. He'll have to start life all over again." "No, David, no!" "And in my position I can't afford to have an eight-year-old son with the mind of a new-born baby. It's got to be Abandonment, Edith, there's no other way. The boy can start life over in a reformatory, with a complete memory-wash. He'll never know we existed, and he'll never bother us again." from her shaking body. "And the name of this?" " Tarzan of The Apes. " Mom's voice was a barely audible croak. "Who's the author?" "Edgar Rice Burroughs." "And this one?" " " "Who wrote it?" " Edith. " He spat the name as if it were acid on his tongue. "Edith, Why? " and Indians and spacemen—but sometimes you want more than that. Sometimes you want to know how people feel deep inside and how they then forget them. Sometimes you want to keep the words and thoughts before you because in that way you feel that they belong to you." Her words echoed in the room until absorbed by the ceaseless, ticking clock. Mom stood straight and unashamed. Dad's gaze traveled slowly to Ronnie, to Mom, to the clock, back and forth. At last he said, "Get out." Mom stared blankly. "Get out. Both of you. You can send for your things later. I never want to see either of you again." "David—" "I said get out !" An instant later a door opened and a small boy ran out to meet them. "Hi, Kenny." "Hi. Who's that? Your mom?"

<question>:
How many adult characters have speaking roles?

<options>:
A Three
B Two
C Four
D Five

<answer>:

B