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

<passage>:
Like an automaton he turned again and paced to the hall door. Chambers merely tapped on the glass top of the counter with a Nothing.... Weakly Mr. Chambers moved back to his chair in the corner. "So here I am," he said, half aloud. So there he was. Embattled in the last corner of the world that For people long ago had gathered that Mr. Chambers desired to be was left to him. October wind was rustling the dead leaves when Mr. Chambers started out at seven o'clock. It was a good night, he told himself, smelling the clean, crisp air of autumn and the faint pungence of distant wood smoke. He walked unhurriedly, swinging his cane a bit less jauntily than Staring through the window, he saw it again. The same vision he had looked upon before and yet different in an indescribable way. snarling and growling, snapping at his heels. But Mr. Chambers "Oh, well," said Mr. Chambers, "I never did like that very well." The wind whipped the muted words away and Mr. Chambers grumbled Something one could expect to happen. Perhaps, if he thought hard enough, he could bring them back. But he pushed speculation away, sniffed the clean, crisp air again, looked at the familiar things that materialized out of the late of Oak and Lincoln and they were talking excitedly. Mr. Chambers caught some excited words: "It's happening everywhere.... What do you think it is.... The scientists can't explain...." But as Mr. Chambers neared them they fell into what seemed an Mr. Chambers started. The clock had stopped. Funny ... the first time in twenty years. He leaped from his chair and then sat down again. The clock hadn't stopped. It wasn't there. There was a tingling sensation in his feet. then stepped back and Mr. Chambers continued on his walk. But 15 minutes too soon! For twenty years, day in, day out, he had started out at seven and returned at a quarter of eight. Now.... It wasn't until then that he realized something else was wrong. Shaken, muttering to himself, Mr. Chambers let himself in his of them. Others might discuss and worry over them if they wished. To him they simply did not matter. But there were two things tonight that did matter. Two curious, incredible events. He had arrived home fifteen minutes early. He had forgotten his cigar. Huddled in the chair, he frowned slowly. It was disquieting to have something like that happen. There must be something wrong. Had his long exile finally turned his mind ... perhaps just a very little ... enough to make him queer? Had he lost his sense No, he hadn't. Take this room, for example. After twenty years it had come to be as much a part of him as the clothes he wore. He had put it there because he liked it best. Further reverie became an effort as Mr. Chambers felt himself succumbing to weariness. He undressed and went to bed. For an hour he lay awake, assailed by vague fears he could neither define nor understand. pumping like pistons, but he could make no progress. It was as if he ran upon a treadway. Then again the terror descended on him, a black, unimagined thing and he tried to scream and couldn't. He opened his mouth and strained his vocal cords and filled his lungs to bursting with the urge to shriek ... but not a sound came from his lips. All next day he was uneasy and as he left the house that evening, Everything was the same as the night before. And now, he told himself, the Red Star confectionery is in the next block. I must not forget tonight. To forget twice in a row thought, passed the store as on the night before? For the first time in twenty years, Mr. Chambers retraced his Now he understood why he had missed the store on the night before, why he had arrived home fifteen minutes early. On legs that were dead things he stumbled back to his home. He Mr. Chambers shivered, reached to turn up the collar of his coat, then stopped as he realized the room must be warm. A fire blazed merrily in the grate. The cold he felt came from something ... somewhere else. The cold of fear and horror, the chill of a half whispered thought. he had ever sensed before. Not a homey, comfortable silence ... but a silence that hinted at emptiness and nothingness. There was something back of this, Mr. Chambers told himself. experience. Something, somewhere, some part of his earlier life, seemed to hold an explanation. But try as he would his befuddled Mr. Chambers got to his feet, strode to the door, opened it and with it. He recalled how it had always stood, foursquare, a solid piece of mid-Victorian architecture. Then, before his eyes, the house righted itself again. Slowly it drew together, ironed out its queer angles, readjusted its dimensions, became once again the stodgy house he knew it had With a sigh of relief, Mr. Chambers turned back into the hall. by piece. He awoke, body drenched with perspiration. Vague light of early dawn filtered through the window. The clock on the bedside table Again the fantastic happenings of the night before came back to haunt him and as he lay there, staring at the windows, he remembered them, one by one. But his mind, still fogged by sleep and astonishment, took the happenings in its stride, mulled over them, lost the keen edge of fantastic terror that lurked around a few withered apples still clinging to its boughs, a few shriveled leaves reluctant to leave the parent branch. The tree was there now. But it hadn't been when he first had they were out of plumb. As if some giant hand had grasped the house and wrenched it out of true. Like the house he had seen across the street the night before, the house that had painfully righted itself when he thought of how it should look. weary to think about the house. He turned from the window and dressed slowly. In the living room ottoman. For a long time he sat, trying to think. And then, abruptly, something like an electric shock ran through him. Rigid, he sat there, limp inside at the thought. Minutes later he arose and almost ran across the room to the old mahogany thumbing slowly through the pages. For a moment the memory of happier days swept over him. his feet and saw there was nothing, nothing at all beyond the With a wild cry, Mr. Chambers turned and ran. Back down the bouncing on his head. Panting, he reached the gate and stumbled up the walk, thankful that it still was there. back over his shoulder and a queer feeling of inner numbness seemed to well over him. At that moment the gray nothingness appeared to thin ... the enveloping curtain fell away, and he that Mr. Chambers felt the eyes peering at him. Mr. Chambers pushed open the door of his house. But he did not there, he stirred them up, raked away the ash, piled on more wood. The flames leaped merrily, dancing in the chimney's throat. Without removing his hat and coat, he sank exhausted in his favorite chair, closed his eyes then opened them again. He sighed with relief as he saw the room was unchanged. Everything in its accustomed place: the clock, the lamp, the breath of reassurance returned to him. They couldn't take this substantial thing. For a moment real fear reached out and touched him with chilly fingers. For he knew that this room no longer was proof against the thing that had happened out there on the street. Could it be that he was going mad? He had heard whispers when he had passed, whispers the gossiping housewives had not intended him to hear. And he had heard the shouting of boys when he walked by. They thought him mad. Could he be really mad? But he knew he wasn't mad. He knew that he perhaps was the sanest of all men who walked the earth. For he, and he alone, had

<question>:
What is implied when Mr. Chambers starts to feel a tingling sensation in his feet?

<options>:
A He is dying
B He is being transported into another dimension
C He is excited to meet the inter-dimensional beings.
D He is starting to feel emotions once again

<answer>:

B