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

<passage>:
kinds of work.... The river ran still and deep, green and gray in the eddies with the warm smell of late summer rising out of the slow water. Madrone and vanished, leaving only the stillness of the dusk and the lonely cry of shore birds. From downstream came the faint sounds of music. It might have been a phonograph playing in one of the summer cabins with names like Polly Ann Roost and Patches and Seventh Heaven, but to Kimmy it was the hated cry of the Father of Therns calling the dreadful Plant Men to their feast of hadn’t had to give up smoking. He could almost imagine the textured taste of the cigaret on his tongue. Oddly enough, he wasn’t tired. He wasn’t excited, either. And that was long a road, he thought, from then to now. Then he stopped smiling and turned away from the window. It hadn’t been an easy path and what was coming up now was the hardest part. The goddam because of their brainwave graphs and word association tests and their Rorschach blots. “You’re a lonely man, Colonel Kimball——” “Too much imagination could be bad for this job.” How could you sit there with pentothal in your veins and wires running Kimball snapped on a light and looked at his watch. 0310. Zero minus one Kimball stood now in the bright glare of the briefing shack, a strange They were thinking: Why him? Out of all the scores of applicants—because there are always applicants for a sure-death job—and all the qualified pilots, why this one? Kimball listened, only half aware of what was being said. He watched the I feel, he was thinking. And asking themselves why I want to go. On the dais nearby, listening to the PRO, but watching Kimball, sat Steinhart, the team analyst. Kimball returned his steady gaze thinking: They start out burning with desire to cure the human mind and end with the shadow of the images. The words become the fact, the therapy the aim. What could Steinhart know of longing? No, he thought, I’m not being fair. Steinhart was only doing his job. The big clock on the back wall of the briefing shack said three fifty-five. Zero minus one hour and five minutes. Kimball looked around the room at the pale faces, the open mouths. What have I to do with you now, he thought? ferroconcrete. As they filed out of the briefing shack, Steinhart climbed into the command car with Kimball. Chance or design? Kimball wondered. The others, he noticed, were leaving both of them alone. Kimball thought: He’s pale skinned and very blond. What is it that he Steinhart reached for a cigaret and then stopped, remembering that Kimball had had to give them up because of the flight. Kimball caught the movement and half-smiled. “I didn’t try to kill the assignment for you, Kim,” the psych said. “It doesn’t matter now.” “No, I suppose not.” “You just didn’t think I was the man for the job.” [119] said. “It’s just some of the things——” Kimball said: “I talked too much.” “You had to.” “You wouldn’t think my secret life was so dangerous, would you,” the Colonel said smiling. “You were married, Kim. What happened?” “More therapy?” “I’d like to know. This is for me.” Kimball shrugged. “It didn’t work. She was a fine girl—but she finally told me it was no go. ‘You don’t live here’ was the way she put it.” “She knew you were a career officer what did she expect——?” “That isn’t what she meant. You know that.” Kimball, swathed in plastic, a fantastic figure not of earth, watched them wheel across the clear, deep night. impatiently. “Set up the camp and wait for the next rocket. If it comes.” “In two years.” “In two years,” the plastic figure said. Didn’t he know that it didn’t matter? He glanced at his watch. Zero minus fifty-six minutes. “Yes?” Disinterest in his voice now, Steinhart noted clinically. Natural under the circumstances? Or neurosis building up already? Kimball turned to regard the psych The analyst flushed. “No.” “I didn’t think so.” “You lived pretty much in your mind when you were a child,” Steinhart went on doggedly. “You were a solitary, a lonely child.” [120] Kimball was watching the sky again. Steinhart felt futile and out of his depth. “We know so little about the psychology of space-flight, Kim——” Silence. The rumble of the tires on the packed sand of the road, the “You’re glad to be leaving, aren’t you—” Steinhart said finally. “Happy to be the first man to try for the He stood very still, listening to his sisters talking, letting their voices carry down to where he hid from the dangers of the Valley Dor. “Where is that little brat, anyway?” “He always wanders off just at dinnertime and then we have to find him——” “Playing with that old faucet—” Mimicry. “‘My rad-ium pis-tol——’” “Cracked—just cracked. Oh, where IS he, anyway? Kimmm-eee, you AN-swer!” Something died in him. It wasn’t a faucet, it WAS a radium pistol. He shifting light of the two moons. [121] “Kimmmm—eeee Mom’s going to be mad at you! Answer us!” alone. The plastic sac contained him, fed him and the rocket, silent now, coursed through the airless deep like a questing thought. Time was measured by the ticking of the telemeters and the timers, but Kimball slept insulated and complete. And he dreamed. He dreamed of that summer when the river lay still and deep under the hanging willows. He dreamed of his sisters, thin and angular creatures as he remembered them through the eyes of a nine-year-old—— And his mother, tall and shadowy, standing on the porch of the rented cottage and saying exasperatedly: “ Why do you run off by yourself, Kimmy? I worry about you so—— ” ” He dreamed of the low, beamed ceiling of the cottage, sweltering in the heat of the summer nights and the thick longing in his throat for red hills and a sky that burned deep blue through the long, long days and And Steinhart: “ What is reality, Kimmy? ” The hours stretched into days, the days into months. Time wasn’t. Time was a deep night and a starshot void. And dreams. He awoke seldom. His tasks were simple. The plastic sac and the tender care of the ship were more real than the routine jobs of telemetering information back to the Base across the empty miles, across the rim of the world. He dreamed of his wife. “ You don’t live here, Kim. ” She was right, of course. He [122] wasn’t of earth. Never had been. My love is in the sky, he thought, filled with an immense satisfaction. And time slipped by, the weeks into months the sun dwindled and earth was gone. All around him lay the stunning star-dusted night. He lay curled in the plastic womb when the ship turned. He awoke sluggishly and dragged himself into awareness. training. Ponderously, the ship settled into the iron sand slowly, the internal fires died. Kimball stood in the control room, his heart pounding. Slowly, the ports What is reality, Kimmy? Steinhart was right, he thought vaguely. A tear streaked his cheek. He had never been so alone. was something moving on The voice was thin and distant on the icy wind. Kimball knew that voice. He began stumbling across the empty, lifeless plain. He knew the voice, he knew the man, and he knew the hills that he must reach, quickly now, or die. They were the hills of home.

<question>:
Why did Kimball's marriage end?

<options>:
A We never learn why it ended.
B He was a career officer.
C She ended it because she felt he wasn't committed.
D He left his wife because he was bored.

<answer>:

C