Read the following passage carefully:
Although it was so brilliantly fine—the blue sky powdered with gold and great spots of light like white wine splashed over the Jardins Publiques—Miss Brill was glad she had decided on her fur. The air was motionless, but when you opened your mouth there was just a faint chill, like a chill from a glass of iced water before you sip, and now and again a leaf came drifting—from nowhere, from the sky. Miss Brill put up her hand and touched her fur. Dear little thing! It was nice to feel it again. She had taken it out of its box that afternoon, shaken out the moth-powder, given it a good brush, and rubbed the life back into the dim little eyes. "What has been happening to me?" said the sad little eyes. Oh, how sweet it was to see them snap at her again from the red eiderdown! . . . But the nose-cap, which was of some black composition, wasn't at all firm. It looked as though it had been rubbed on the point of a pin. Never mind—a little dab of black sealing-wax when the time came—when it was absolutely necessary. . . . Little rogue! Yes, she really felt like that about it. Little rogue biting its tail just by her left ear. She could have taken it off and laid it on her lap and stroked it. She felt a tingling in her hands and arms, but that came from walking, she supposed. And when she breathed, something light and sad—no, not sad, a gentle something—played in her bosom.
There were a number of people out this afternoon, far more than last Sunday. And the band played rather louder and more gaily on Sundays than on weekdays. That was because the Season had begun. For although the season had begun, it was not yet warm enough for people to sit on the chairs. Only the benches were occupied. And the band played, and the conductor, a little man in a frock-coat, kept time with his hands and feet, and tap-tapped with his baton on the music-stand. The people sat on the benches, and they looked as though they had all come from somewhere else—from dark rooms, from cupboards even. They sat there, looking at nothing, and yet they seemed to wait for something. Miss Brill sat in her usual seat, the one under the old tree with the drooping branches, and she watched them. She felt a strange kinship with them, these silent watchers of the park. It was as if they were all part of some silent play, waiting for their cues. A couple came and stood near her. They were young, and they talked in low voices. She tilted her head slightly to listen, as she always did, finding in these stolen fragments of other lives a curious comfort, a way to fill the quiet spaces of her own Sunday afternoons.
A student writing an essay on this passage argues that Miss Brill uses her surroundings and possessions to construct a fragile illusion of connection that shields her from her own profound isolation.
Which of the following claims, if added to the student's essay, would best develop this thesis while maintaining a logical line of reasoning?
- AThe assertion that the band plays louder on Sundays due to the Season shows that Miss Brill values economic prosperity above personal relationships.
- Her personification of the fur neckpiece as a living companion reveals her reliance on inanimate objects to satisfy her need for emotional intimacy.Answer
- CThe description of the park-goers as coming from 'dark rooms' and 'cupboards' shows that the public garden acts as a literal municipal shelter for the homeless.
- DThe detailed physical description of the fur's loose nose-cap serves primarily to foreshadow the chronological sequence of her journey back home.
- EHer characterization of the park-goers as actors in a 'silent play' demonstrates that she feels socially superior to the other people visiting the park.