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

<passage>:
And her name, he saw, was Sue-Ann Bradley, Detainee No. WFA-656R. He frowned at the rap sheet, trying to figure out what got a girl like He demanded: "Why wouldn't you mop out your cell?" The girl lifted her head angrily and took a step forward. The block guard, Sodaro, growled warningly: "Watch it, auntie!" O'Leary shook his head. "Let her talk, Sodaro." It said in the Civil me I was supposed to mop up. She banged on the door and said, 'Slush up, sister!' And then, ten minutes later, she called the guards and told them I refused to mop." The block guard guffawed. "Wipe talk—that's what she was telling you to do. Cap'n, you know what's funny about this? This Bradley is—" "Shut up, Sodaro." Captain O'leary put down his pencil and looked at the girl. She was attractive and young—not beyond hope, surely. Maybe she had got off to a wrong start, but the question was, would putting her in the disciplinary block help straighten her out? He rubbed his ear and looked past her at the line of prisoners on the rap detail, waiting for He said patiently: "Bradley, the rules are you have to mop out your cell. If you didn't understand what Mathias was talking about, you should have asked her. Now I'm warning you, the next time—" "Hey, Cap'n, wait!" Sodaro was looking alarmed. "This isn't a first the mess hall." He shook his head reprovingly at the prisoner. "The block guard had to break up a fight between her and another wench, and she claimed the same business—said she didn't understand when the other one asked her to move along." He added virtuously: "The guard warned her then that next time she'd get the Greensleeves for sure." Inmate Bradley seemed to be on the verge of tears. She said tautly: "I O'Leary stopped her. "That's enough! Three days in Block O!" It was the only thing to do—for her own sake as much as for his. He had managed, by strength of will, not to hear that she had omitted to say "sir" every time she spoke to him, but he couldn't keep it up forever and he certainly couldn't overlook hysteria. And hysteria was clearly the next step for her. All the same, he stared after her as she left. He handed the rap sheet What's she in for?" "You didn't know, Cap'n?" Sodaro leered. "She's in for conspiracy to violate the Categoried Class laws. Don't waste your time with her, Cap'n. She's a figger-lover!" Captain O'Leary took a long drink of water from the fountain marked "Civil Service." But it didn't wash the taste out of his mouth, the smell from his nose. What got into a girl to get her mixed up with that kind of dirty yard, wondering about her. She'd had every advantage—decent Civil the born mechanic and the man with the gift of gab, society evolved to the point of smaller contact and less communication between the specializations, until now they could understand each other on only the most basic physical necessities—and not even always then. cobblestones of the yard twice already that day. But it was an inmate's a mechanic or a soldier, or even a laborer, for that matter. Good laborers were the salt of the Earth! They weren't smart, maybe, loaf, work and loaf. Of course, he wouldn't really Civil Service or anything else. He knew his place. So why didn't this girl, this Sue-Ann Bradley, know hers? Their names were Sauer and Flock. Sue-Ann Bradley heard them before she reached the Greensleeves. She was in a detachment of three unfortunates like herself, convoyed by an irritable guard, climbing the steel steps toward Block O from the floor below, when she heard the yelling. "Owoo-o-o," screamed Sauer from one end of the cell block and "Yow-w-w!" shrieked Flock at the other. The inside guard muttered: "Wipe rats! They're getting on my nerves." The outside guard shrugged. "Detail, halt !" The two guards turned to see what was coming in as because there's plenty of wipes and greasers and figgers to keep her already." Sue-Ann Bradley looked carefully at the floor and paid them no passed them by and she was fighting off an almost uncontrollable urge to retch. "We got a lady with us! Maybe we ought to cut out this yelling so as not to disturb the lady!" He screeched with howling, maniacal laughter. "Anyway, if we don't cut this out, they'll get us in trouble, Resentment and anger, she could understand. She told herself doggedly that resentment and anger were natural and right. They were perfectly system— But did they have to scream so? The senseless yelling was driving her crazy. She abandoned herself to weeping and she didn't even care who heard her any more. Senseless! It never occurred to Sue-Ann Bradley that it might not be senseless, because noise hides noise. But then she hadn't been a prisoner very long. The warden, faintly relieved, faintly annoyed, scolded: "O'Leary, what don't mix it isn't natural. And there are other things." O'Leary hesitated, frowning. How could you explain to the warden that But today she put a woman named Bradley on report. Why? Because she told Bradley to mop up in wipe talk and Bradley didn't understand. Now His phone was ringing. The warden picked it up irritably. Because five minutes before, he was in his cell, with the rest of the He was still yelling. Sue-Ann Bradley, in the cell across from him, Sue-Ann froze, waiting to see what would happen. What actually did lovely term for it. At the guard's yell, the inmates jumped to their feet. Bradley was a little slow getting off the edge of the steel-slat The guard peered genially into her cell. "You're okay, auntie." She proudly ignored him as he slogged deliberately away on his rounds. He didn't have to untie her and practically stand over her while she attended to various personal matters, as he did with the male grateful. At least she didn't have to live quite like a fig—like an underprivileged clerk, she told herself, conscience-stricken. Across the hall, the guard was saying irritably: "What the hell's the matter with you?" He opened the door of the cell with an knows how, hidden inside the greensleeved jacket God knows how—filed, him not to, you hear?" He was nearly fainting with the pain. O'Leary said: "Warden, I told you I smelled trouble!" and no one cared and their mothers shut them up. No, there wasn't any alert scheduled for tonight no, they didn't know where Daddy was going no, the kids area to hear. They caught the words from a distance—not quite correctly. "Riot!" gasped an aircraftswoman first-class, mother of three. "The wipes! I told know how they are about GI women! I'm going right home and get a club and stand right by the door and—" "Club!" snapped Alys, radarscope-sergeant, with two children querulously awake in her nursery at home. "What in God's name is the better come along to Supply with me and draw a gun—you'll need it before this night is over." But the airmen themselves heard the briefing loud and clear over the scramble-call speakers, and they knew it was not merely a matter of

<question>:
Why didn't Bradley mop up her cell?

<options>:
A she wanted Mathias to do it for her
B she wanted to start a riot
C she didn't deserve to be in the Jug
D she didn't understand the slang in the command

<answer>:

D