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

<passage>:
Still, he was the honored home-comer, the successful returnee, the hometown boy who had made good in a big way, and they took the triumphal tour up Main Street to the new square and the grandstand. There he sat newspapers had dubbed the start of the Twenty-first Century—the Galloping Twenties. He was glad when the official greeting was over. He was a very tired man and he had come farther, traveled longer and over darker country, than any man who'd ever lived before. He wanted a meal at his own table, a The house had changed. He saw that as soon as the official car let him off at 45 Roosevelt Street. The change was, he knew, for the better. They had put a porch in front. They had rehabilitated, spruced up, almost rebuilt the entire outside and grounds. But he was sorry. He had wanted it to be as before. still too much the First One to have his gaze met. He walked up what had once been a concrete path and was now an ornate flagstone path. He climbed the new porch and raised the ornamental knocker on the new door and heard the soft music sound within. He was surprised that he'd had to do this. He'd thought Edith would be watching at a window. he looked at her. It hadn't been too long and she hadn't changed at all. She was still the small, slender girl he'd loved support, the thirty-three-year old woman and ten-year-old boy. They looked at him, and then both moved forward, still together. He said, "It's good to be home!" floor, and he didn't look at his father but somewhere beyond him. "I didn't grow much while you were gone, Dad, Mom says I don't eat enough." So he put him down and told himself that it would all change, that everything would loosen up just as his commanding officer, General Carlisle, had said it would early this morning before he left his arms, and yet he didn't want to oppress her. He stood up. "I'm very tired. I'd like to lie down a while." Which wasn't true, because he'd been lying down all the months of the way back. and pick up just where he'd left off. But they didn't expect it of him they wouldn't let him they felt he had changed too much. She led him upstairs and along the foyer past Ralphie's room and past the small guest room to their bedroom. This, too, had changed. It was newly painted and it had new furniture. He saw twin beds separated by an ornate little table with an ornate little lamp, and this looked more ominous a barrier to him than the twelve-foot concrete-and-barbed-wire She also tried to smile. "The one near the window. You always liked the fresh air, the sunshine in the morning. You always said it helped you to get up on time when you were stationed at the base outside of town. were going to go up in it, and that you were going to come down from it to this bed again." "Not this bed," he murmured, and was a little sorry afterward. "No, not this bed," she said quickly. "Your lodge donated the bedroom set and I really didn't know—" She waved her hand, her face white. He was sure then that she had known, and that the beds and the barrier between them were her own choice, if only an unconscious choice. He went to the bed near the window, stripped off his Air Force blue jacket, began to take off his shirt, but then remembered that some arm scars still showed. He waited for her to leave the room. She said, "Well then, rest up, dear," and went out. He took off his shirt and saw himself in the mirror on the opposite wall and then took off his under-shirt. The body scars were faint, the been treated properly and would soon disappear. But she had never seen them. Perhaps she never would. Perhaps pajamas and robes and dark rooms would keep them from her until they were gone. Which was not what he'd considered at all important on leaving Walter distasteful, something he felt beneath them both. And, at the same time, he began to understand that there would be many things, previously beneath them both, which would have to be considered. She had changed Ralphie had changed all the people he knew had probably changed—because they thought he had changed. He was tired of thinking. He lay down and closed his eyes. He let himself taste bitterness, unhappiness, a loneliness he had never known before. filtering into his mind. After all, he was still Henry Devers, the same man who had left home eleven months ago, with a love for family and would again become good old Hank. It was little enough to ask for—a return to old values, old relationships, the normalcies of the backwash instead of the freneticisms of the lime-light. It would certainly be granted to him. in the dining room at the big table. Before he'd become the First One, it would have been a noisy affair. His family had never been noted for a lack of ebullience, a lack of talkativeness, and Ralphie had always chosen mealtimes—especially with good-natured the general tone of their lives had been good-natured. This wasn't good-natured. Exactly what it was he wasn't sure. "Stiff" was perhaps the word. houses you ever did see," he boomed in his powerful salesman's voice. "Still going like sixty. We'll sell out before—" At that point he Garden Club, and Hank looked across the table to where she sat between Joe and Mother—his wife and son bracketed him, and yet he felt alone—and said, "I've missed fooling around with the lawn and the rose bushes. Here it is August and I haven't had my hand to a mower or trowel." cut into it and raised a forkful to his mouth, then glanced at Ralphie and said, "Looks fresh enough to have been killed in the back yard." Lucille was rapidly becoming a vegetarian and he guessed she was going into the living room for a while. "She'll be back for dessert, of course," he said, his laugh sounding forced. to cry, and he was glad she left the house then. He had never said anything really bad to his mother. He was afraid this would have been Edith said, "He'll stay home, Hank. We'll spend an evening together—talking, watching TV, playing Monopoly." They answered together that of course they wanted to. But their eyes—his wife's and son's eyes—could not meet his, and so he said he was going to his room because he was, after all, very tired and would in all probability continue to be very tired for a long, long time and that they shouldn't count on him for normal social life. He fell asleep quickly, lying there in his clothes. closest friends. Perhaps this would begin his real homecoming. Do the town? They'd paint it and then tear it down! It didn't turn out that way. He was disappointed but then again, he'd also expected it. This entire first day at home had conditioned him to to be sick. "So let's rock," he said and stood up. it always showed in the eyes—that made him know she was trying to be the old Edith and not succeeding. This time when the music ended, he was ready to go home. you terribly, we've all hurt you terribly, by trying to hide that we're frightened." "I'm going to stay in the guest room," he said, "for as long as necessary. For good if need be." did—seven months ago next Wednesday—he's going to be next. He was smashed up worse than I was, so it took a little longer, but he's almost "I saw nothing," he said. "It was as if I slept those six and a half months—slept without dreaming." satisfied. Later, half asleep, he heard a dog howling, and remembered stories of how they announced death and the presence of monsters. He shivered and

<question>:
How did Henry feel about the remodeled bedrooms?

<options>:
A He was thankful to have a private place to rest.
B He felt sad that yet another thing was unfamiliar.
C He was angry because he really liked his old bed.
D He thought the new paint was nice but didn't like the furniture.

<answer>:

B