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

<passage>:
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Linton lay down his steel fork beside the massively solid transparency of the restaurant water glass. "Isn't that Rogers Snead at that table?" he heard himself say stupidly. Howell, the man across the table from him, looked embarrassed without looking. "Not at all. Somebody who looks like him. Twin brother. You know how it is. Snead's dead, don't you remember?" Linton remembered. Howell had to know that he would remember. What were they trying to pull on him? "The man who isn't Snead is leaving," Linton said, describing the scene over Howell's shoulder. "If that's Snead's brother, I might catch him to pay my respects." "No," Howell said, "I wouldn't do that." "Snead came to Greta's funeral. It's the least I could do." "I wouldn't. Probably no relation to Snead at all. Somebody who looks like him." restaurant." "Who? Oh, the man who looked like Snead, you mean." "Yes," Linton said. A thick-bodied man at the next table leaned his groaning chair back intimately against Linton's own chair. "That fellow who just left looked like a friend of yours, huh?" the thick man said. "Couldn't have been him, though," Linton answered automatically. "My friend's dead." paper money on the table as if he were disgusted with it. He plodded out of the place quickly. Howell breathed in deeply and sucked back Linton's attention. "Now you've probably got old Snead into trouble." "Snead's dead," Linton said. "Oh, well, 'dead,'" Howell replied. "What do you say it like that for?" Linton demanded angrily. "The man's dead. Plain dead. He's not Sherlock Holmes or the Frankenstein Monster—there's no doubt or semantic leeway to the thing." "You know how it is," Howell said. Linton had thought he had known how death was. He had buried his wife, or rather he had watched the two workmen scoop and shove dirt in on the sawdust-fresh pine box that held the coffin. He had known what he sincerely felt to be a genuine affection for Greta. Even after they had let him out of the asylum as cured, he still secretly believed he had known a genuine affection for her. But it didn't seem he knew about death at all. Linton felt that his silence was asking Howell by this time. "I don't know, mind you," Howell said, puffing out tobacco smoke, "but I suppose he might have been resurrected." "Who by?" Linton asked, thinking: "You mean, somebody has invented a way to bring dead people back to life?" Linton said. He knew, of course, that Howell did not mean that. Howell meant that some people had a system of making it appear that a person had died in order to gain some illegal advantage. But by saying something so patently ridiculous, Linton hoped to bring the contradicting truth to the surface immediately. "An invention? I guess that's how it is," Howell agreed. "I don't know much about people like that. I'm an honest businessman." "But it's wonderful," Linton said, thinking his immediate thoughts. "Wonderful! Why should a thing like that be illegal? Why don't I know about it?" "Sh-h," Howell said uneasily. "This is a public place." "I don't understand," Linton said helplessly. charges, if any, come under general vice classification." "I don't understand," Linton complained. "Why haven't I heard about it?" "I see," Linton said. He tried to assimilate it. Of course he had, he reminded himself, been out of touch for some time. It might be true. Then again, they might be trying to trick him. They used to do that to see if he was really well. But the temptation was too strong. "Tell me, Howell, where could I find a resurrectionist?" Howell looked away. "Frank, I don't have anything to do with that kind of people and if you're smart, you'll not either." Linton's fingers imprinted the linen. "Damn you, Howell, you tell me!" Howell climbed to his feet hurriedly. "I take you out to dinner to console you over the loss of your wife a half a year ago, and to make you feel welcome back to the society of your fellows after being in the hospital for a nervous breakdown. I do all that, and for thanks, you yell at me and curse me. You kooks are all alike!" Howell threw money on the table with the same kind of disinterest as the thick-set man and stalked out. I've got to hurry too, Linton thought. It's Resurrection Day! The doctor fluttered his hands and chirped about the office. "Well, well, Mr. Linton, we understand you've been causing disturbances." "Not really," Linton said modestly. attempted to bribe an officer. That's disturbing, Mr. Linton, very disturbing." "I was only trying to find out something," Linton maintained. "They could have told me. Everybody seems to know but me." The doctor clucked his tongue. "Let's not think any such thing. People Linton stared suspiciously. "Do you know where I can find a "Well, that's what you paid him to do, wasn't it? Did you think a policeman would just steal your money? Cynics—all you young people are cynics." Linton scooted forward on the insultingly cold metal chair and really looked at the doctor for the first time. "Doctor, can you Linton grasped the situation immediately. "You mean you want money. You realize I've just got out of an institution...." "I've often been in institutions myself, for alcoholism, narcotics "What a wonderful professional career," Linton said, when he couldn't to obtain. The doctor had taken the body and Linton's fortune and fed olive-drab slab of metal of the door to the doctor's inner-inner sanctum and walked out into the medicinal cold fluorescent lighting. It wasn't fair at all, Linton thought. He should have had some time to prepare himself. doubt he would be able to adjust to her once having been dead the same way he had learned to accept the, to him, distasteful duty of kissing her ears the way she enjoyed. "But Johnny was your friend, your best friend. Why didn't you have him resurrected the same way you did me?" "No," Linton said. "I'm sold out. I've borrowed on my insurance to the "Of course," Greta said. She sighed. "Poor Johnny. He was such a good friend of yours. You must miss him. I'm so sorry for you." writhed against him provocatively. "Frank, I'm sorry, dear, but I have to have that insurance money. It's hell!" Linton understood immediately. He felt foolish, humiliated. All that green. No one must ever know. Linton twisted the stand away from his wife and watched her face in some appalled form of satisfaction as it registered horror and acceptance of the crumpled metal disk falling toward it. He split her head open and watched her float to the floor. Linton was surprised at the fine wire mesh just below the skin and those shiny little tabs that looked like pictures of transistors in institutional advertising. She had thought she was his wife, sharing her viewpoint down to the finest detail, and he had thought she was his wife. Linton. But they'll cure you. You'll be cured of ever thinking your

<question>:
Which is the best description of the relationship between Linton and Howell?

<options>:
A They are business partners trying to find a way to bring back someone they knew
B Howell is trying to be supportive but is exhausted by Linton's insistence
C They are new friends figuring out their rapport, so Howell wants to help however he can
D Howell is only meeting with Linton out of a feeling of obligation and doesn't care for him much

<answer>:

B