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Directions Read the passage carefully and answer in the space provided for it on the OMR Answer Sheet. He was a deeply subtle man, I know by now. With such natures it is usually a waste of efforts to fence the only way to speak face-to-face is to be direct. I said that I had been waiting for news of the Noble Prize and that I was very sorry. He stared at me, and nodded. He didn't pretend not to mind. He said something to the effect that it would be good to have. Then, quite suddenly, he have a grim chuckle, and launched into an anecdote, possible apocryphal and certainly slanderous, about another unsuccessful candidate - not English speaking - who had been "bucking for' the prize for year and year. He had left nothing to chance. He had known all the rights boys (in Frost's demonology, this probably meant some of the 'enemies'). He had been told that it was in the bag. The day of the election, he had champagne out on the table. He was waiting for the telephone to ring. There was a long wait. A longer wait. At last the telephone did ring. He hadn't got it. He was told the name of the winner. It is impossible, he cried. It is impossible. That was all he could think of. Frost said, cheering himself up with malice. But had happened. After that, he was quite gay. He talked about England. He was sensitive to his audience. So that I was left under the impression that he had been a lifelong Anglophile. When I read his letters and his remarks about 'the British' (a term he wouldn't have used to me) I wasn't surprised about something, but I was by those. May be, as I have suggested, he had some to think better of us. He was enthusiastic about the common language that was essential thing. Then, he spoke about what he called the locative in art. Art which meant anything to him was locative, rooted in a place, in the singularities of a place. We had a bit of an argument. Temperamentally, I said, I was on his side. But locative arts needs knowledge and patience to understand that was why cosmopolitan art<abstract art<travelled further and gagster. One didn't have to know or anything to read, say, Kafka or Hemingway. They had travelled round the world to an extent that June Austen or Forester never would. Frost would have it. The greatest locative airs transcended everything. It was organic, and no other art could be. He still had immense stamina for argument, or rather for his oblique interpretation of ideas. He would have gone on talking long after our hosts returned.

"He didn't pretend not to mind", this means

A) He did mind               

B) He did not mind

C) He had mixed feelings

D) He showed no feeling