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

<passage>:
Women may be against progress because it means new He snapped his fingers. He looked like a high-school kid. "Nothin' to it." She could see he was very proud. Very tired, too. He reached out to touch her. what she was doing to patch up their marriage. well-groomed hand. Marcia responded weakly to the smile, overcame a sudden urge to blurt out that she had no validation—not her own, purse. Then from the depths of her guilt came rebellion. It was going to be all right.... After this—if this didn't work—there just would be nothing else she could do. She wasn't a scheming woman. No one would ever know how difficult it had been for her to think up the whole plan, to find to Nellie, to make Nellie think she was brave and adventurous, and that she was just doing it to surprise Jack. Oh, he'd be surprised, all right. He'd said it during the quarrel, and he'd roared at her, "And that's "The Elsinore ?" She'd said it viciously, to taunt him, and something in her had been pleased at the dull flush that rose to his face. Everyone knew about the treatments to put hair on his brainless head and restore his—Oh, the Jaywalker !" Jack spat in disgust. "Anyway, he was the kind of idiot when he was about to leave her for it. And this time it was worse than "It's all so dull!" she had flared, and then, "How can I be interested in what some blundering space-jockey did?" "Blun—Marcia, you really don't realize what that skipper did was the finest piece of shiphandling since mankind got off the ground." "Was it?" she'd yawned. "Could you do it?" "I—like to think I could," he said. "I'd hate to have to try." She'd shrugged. "Then it can't be very difficult, darling." She hadn't meant to be so cruel. Or so stupid. But when they were quarreling, or when he talked that repugnant, dedicated, other-world garble, something always went cold and furious and—lonely inside her, and made her fight back unfairly. After he'd gone—for good, he said—her anger had sustained her for a few weeks. Then, bleakly, she knew she'd go to the ends of Earth for again! thought Marcia furiously and then all emotion left her but cold, ravening fear as the rumble heightened. She tried to close she fought it, but it was too big and too soft. tore at her. She put up her hands, heavily, and pressed the glass as After that, there was scarcely room for thought—even for fear, though awe. She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, awestruck, spellbound, when she realized that she had to finish the job she'd "You're not—" Miss Eagen apparently decided to take one thing at a time. "How do you feel?" "Why, what—is there to be scared of?" "I'm pregnant." "Well, that's no—You're what "I know. Go ahead." Miss Eagen did, swiftly and thoroughly. "You're so right," she breathed. She went to the small sink, stripping off her rubber gloves. "I'm pregnant, Jack," she said. She put out a hand to ward him off. She couldn't bear the thought of his realizing what she had done while he a kindergarten child who knows she has the right answer. He groaned. "You said you could do it." "I can ... try," he said hollowly. "But—why, why ?" "Because," she said bleakly, "I learned long ago that a man grows to love what he has to fight for." "And you were going to make me fight for you and the child—even if the feet, his shoulders down, without looking at her. There was a stiff silence. Marcia looked up at Miss Eagen. "It's true, you know," she said. "A man grows to love the things he has to defend, no matter how he felt about them before." The stewardess looked at her, her face registering a strange mixture of Marcia's patience, snapped. "You don't have to look so superior. I know what's bothering . Well, he's my Another stiff silence. A question curled into Marcia's mind and she the finest in the Service." "He—th-thinks as well of you, no doubt." Petrucelli lounged in, a big man, easy-going, powerful. "What's busted, He looked at her and away, quickly. "Because, lady, when we start to down . Centrifugal force, see?" And before she could answer him he added, "I can't talk and work at the same time." Feeling very much put-upon, Marcia waited silently until he was finished, and the bed hung ludicrously to the wall like a walking fly. She thanked him timidly, and he ignored it and went out. Miss Eagen returned. "And why not?" "Because," said Miss Eagen, and in that moment she looked almost as drawn as Jack had, "I'm supposed to be of service to the passengers at all times no matter what. If I have feelings at all, part of my job is most interested in what you have to say." Miss Eagen gazed at her for a moment, nodded as if to herself, and said, "I suppose there always will be people who don't pay attention ignorance. It's a combination of stupidity and stubbornness. The trouble—sometimes. It kills women in menopause—often. It kills women "But how?" asked Marcia, interested in spite of her resentment. "Convulsions. A battle royal between a glandular-level panic and a violent and useless effort of the will to control the situation. "You make it sound so simple." "There's no need to be sarcastic!" Marcia blurted. "Jack can do it. You think he can, don't you? Don't you?" "He can do anything any space skipper has ever done, and more," said Sue Eagen, and her face glowed. "But it isn't easy. Right this minute he's working over the computer—a small, simple, ship-board computer—working out orbital and positional and blast-intensity data that would be a hard nut for the giant calculators on Earth to crack. And he's doing it in half the time—or less—than it would take the average mathematician, because he has to because it's a life-and-death matter if he makes a mistake or takes too long." "But—but—" "But what?" Miss Eagen's composure seemed to have been blasted to shreds by the powerful currents of her indignation. Her eyes flashed. "You mean, but why doesn't he just work the ship while it's spinning the same way he does when it isn't?" Through a growing fear, Marcia nodded mutely. He'll do it exactly right the first time, or not at all." Marcia was white and still. "I—I never—" hurt and hatred—hatred of the stars, of this knowledgeable, inspired machine, like a harried bookkeeper on the last day of the month. Her lips formed his name, but she was silent. She watched him, his square, competent hands, his detached and distant face. Through the " Jack had said that to her once, long ago, when he still loved her. "... human damnfoolishness botching up the equations...." He had said that once, too. Miss Eagen was standing by the hospital door, watching her. When Marcia "Does it hurt to know that?" astonishment, "Hurt? Oh, no! It's so—so big!" was the outboard bulkhead that drew her like a magnet, increasingly, fighting—for his ship, for the Moon, for the new-building traditions that he had loved and married.

<question>:
What made the woman want to fight with her husband?

<options>:
A She resented that he wanted to leave her and go to space
B She thought he was having an affair with a flight attendant
C She thought he didn't care about their baby
D She thought he was not very skilled at his work

<answer>:

A