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

<passage>:
When everything is either restricted, 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 eight-year-old body trembling, perspiration glittering on his white forehead. To Ronnie, the clock seemed to be saying: forever from savage tongues and angry eyes. A burst of hope entered Ronnie's fear-filled eyes. Maybe something would happen. Maybe Dad would have an accident. Maybe— platform outside. were like a web of taut-drawn wires. There was a droning, indistinct murmur. what ?" when Dad was coming home. "Tell me all about it, son. Where did you get the book? Who taught you "This is between you and me, son. We don't care about anyone else." Dad grunted. "All right, son. Go ahead." ? You actually—" "Dear," said Mom. "You promised." A moment of silence. five hundred books." Ronnie's voice quavered. "Go on," said Dad sternly. "And I—and Mr. Davis said he'd teach me to read them if I promised not to tell anybody. So he taught me a little every day after school—oh, video or hear on the tapes." "How long ago did all this start? "T—two years ago." Dad rose, fists clenched, staring strangely at nothing. "Two years," he breathed. "I thought I had a good son, and yet for two 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 house in Washington instead of trying to commute." words were as ominous as the low growl of thunder: "Maybe I've never really explained things to you, Ronnie. You see, you won't always be a boy. Someday you'll have to find a way of making a living. You've only two choices: You work for the government, like I do, or for a corporation." Dad cleared his throat. "You see, when you get a job, all the 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." The less people know about things, the better. So we have to keep all these things secret." 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." "Mr. Davis isn't crazy. And he isn't old. He's young, just like you, and—" "Damn it, son, how could you even think of being a Reader? You've got the nonsense out of him!" 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 "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 psychiatrist or maybe a psychoneurologist. A few short treatments—" anyway. Even permi-hypnosis would wear off in time. The boy can't keep going to psychiatrists for the rest of his life." 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?" tonight, after you d seen them—" Dad gingerly turned a cover. His lips curled in disgust as if he were 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. "Edith, I think I know why Ronnie wanted to read, why he fell into the trap so easily." "What do you mean, David?" Dad nodded at the clock, and the slow, smouldering anger returned to his face. "It's your back to the 1940's." Mom's face paled. "I don't understand." years, in a pleasant house, these things symbolize peace and security. Ronnie's been conditioned from the very time of his birth to like old Hot anger flashed in Dad's eyes. "It isn't enough to be sorry. Don't you see what this means? Ronnie'll have to be memory-washed back to the 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." The—The Adventures of Tom Sawyer "And the name of this?" " Mom's voice was a barely audible croak. "Who's the author?" "Edgar Rice Burroughs." "And this one?" " The Wizard of Oz. "Who wrote it?" !" rivulets of tears. read a book, haven't even looked at one since we were married. I've tried to be a good wife—" things." "You lied to me," Dad snapped. "For ten years you've lied to me. Why Why? " Mom was silent for a few seconds. She was breathing heavily, but no 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." "I said get out !" Ronnie and Mom left the house. Outside, the night was dark and a wind "A little while?" Mom echoed. Her mind seemed frozen by the cold wind. They came to a small, rough-boarded house in the deep shadow of an

<question>:
How much time passes during the story?

<options>:
A Part of a day
B Two years
C A month
D Eight years

<answer>:

A