The correct order are as follows:
3. Tessman shows Hedda the manuscript.
5. Brack relates the story of the night before.
1. Lovborg tells Thea he destroyed the manuscript.
2. Hedda gives Lovbory a gun.
4. Hedda burns the manuscript.
The events above are drawn from Hedda Gabler Act 3.
The act relays how Lovborg lost his manuscripts at a party, Tessman saw the manuscript and gave it to his wife, Hedda to keep. Lovborg came to Hedda house and lied to Thea that he destroyed the manuscript and this severed the relationship between them. After Thea left, Hedda gave a gun to Lovborg and proceeded to burn the manuscripts after Lovborg left.
<span>Squire
With him there was his son, a youthful squire,
A lover and a lusty bachelor,
With locks well curled, as if they'd laid in press.
Some twenty years of age he was, I guess.
In stature he was of an average length,
Wondrously active, aye, and great of strength.
He'd ridden sometime with the cavalry
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardy,
And borne him well within that little space
In hope to win thereby his lady's grace.
Prinked out he was, as if he were a mead,
All full of fresh-cut flowers white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves both long and wide.
Well could be sit on horse, and fairly ride.
He could make songs and words thereto indite,
Joust, and dance too, as well as sketch and write.
So hot he loved that, while night told her tale,
He slept no more than does a nightingale.
Courteous he, and humble, willing and able,
And carved before his father at the table.</span>
Answer:
Explanation:The answer is b.
The door creaked and a rectangle of light fell onto the magazine that I was reading. I looked up to a boy who had come into the lobby was a stranger, about nineteen, tall and thin.
"Looking for someone?" I asked.
"No," the boy said. His long fingers trembled as they fumbled with the buttons of his coat.
"Well, may I help you with something?"
"No." The boy dropped his coat onto the worn tweed sofa and sat down slowly. In the light from the window his pale cheeks gleamed as if wet.
He's sick, I thought, while walking over to him. A narrow hand reached out and seized my wrist, cold, strong fingers twining around my arm like vines or snakes. I try to fight the impulse to pull away, looking down instead into the boy's troubled, grey eyes.
