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

<passage>:
he didn't altogether feel. "But I at first." He sat up. " Look at me. Can't you tell who I am?" She returned his gaze, then swayed toward him. He decided that she was highly attractive—but surely he ought to have known that long ago. "I suppose so—but shouldn't they have tried to stick to the original color scheme?" "It's a little thing," he said. "I'm lucky to be alive." He took her She was wrong again, but it was probably wiser not to tell her how he knew. No one had said anything to him in the hospital. He hadn't given them a chance. He had awakened in a room and hadn't wanted to be alone. He'd got up and read the chart and searched dizzily through the closet. Clothes were hanging there and he'd put them on and muttered her name to himself. He'd sat down to gain strength and after a while he'd "I can't ! You don't have the same personality at all." She glanced at her arm. There was a bruise on it. "Did I do that?" he asked. some explanation for the added height. He glanced down at his legs. They were the same length from hip bone to the soles of his feet, but they were patching him up, did they really think he needed black, red and brown hair? He wondered how a beagle felt. duplicated since Man began? He felt the stubble on his face with his left hand—he thought that arm was unexpectedly different. He hobbled over to a chair and sat down, staring miserably at Erica as she began dressing. There was quite a contrast between the loveliness of her body and the circus comedy of his own. "Difficult, isn't it?" she said, tugging her bra together and closing Erica came close and leaned comfortingly against him, but he wasn't He wasn't as sure as she seemed to be now. Somehow, maybe he was still Dan Merrol—but he wasn't going to insist on it—not after looking at himself. Not after trying to sort out those damned memories. She was too kind, pretending to be a little attracted to him, to the scrambled face, to the mismatched lumps and limbs and shapes that, stretching the term, currently formed his body. It was clear what he had to do. to add on, but here again Erica proved equal to the task and, using He looked critically at himself in the mirror. Dressed, his total effect was better than he had dared hope it would be. True, he did look different . Erica gazed at him with melancholy affection. "I can't understand why face." It was the clothes, plus the brief glimpse of his face, which had made her think she recognized him when he came in. "They told me you'd have to have psychotherapy and I'd have to have He'd been unnecessarily rough, but that could be ascribed to lack of coordination. She could have been terrified, might have resisted—but she hadn't. At that time, she must have half-believed he was Dan Merrol, still dangerously near the edges of post-regrowth shock. She was looking at him, waiting for that explanation. He shook his "That's new, isn't it?" she said. "I always thought they watched the patient carefully." It ought to be new—he'd just invented it. "You know how rapidly medical practices change," he said quickly. "Anyway, when they examined me last night, I was much stronger than they expected—so, when I wanted to come home, they let me. It's their latest belief that initiative is more important than perfect health." "Strange," she muttered. "But you are very strong." She looked at him and blushed. "Initiative, certainly you have. Dan could use some, wherever he is." Dan again, whether it was himself or another person. For a brief time, back," he told her. "Not before you eat," she said. "Any man who's spent the night with me is hungry in the morning." It was a domestic miracle that amidst all the pressing and fitting, she'd somehow prepared breakfast and he hadn't noticed. It was a simple chore with the automatics, but to him it seemed a proof of her wifely skill. He wanted to protest, but didn't. Maybe it was the hand she was holding—it seemed to be equipped with a better set of nerves than its predecessor. It tingled at her touch. Sadly, he sat down and looked at his food. Eat? Did he want to eat? Oddly enough, he did. "How much do you remember of the accident?" She shoved aside her own food and sat watching him. had been other marks too, but he hadn't been able to decipher them. He nodded and said nothing and she took it as he thought she would. felt he could manage a takeoff at this instant. But why hadn't he told her? Shock? Perhaps—but where had those other identities come from—lepidopterist, musician, actor, mathematician and wrestler? And where had he got memories of wives, slender and passionate, petite and wild, casual and complaisant, nagging and insecure? Erica he didn't remember at all, save from last night, and what was Even if he was sure, he didn't know whether he could tell her—and he wasn't sure any longer, although he had been. On the physical side of marriage, how could he ask her to share a body she'd have to laugh at? Later, he might tell her, if there was to be a 'later.' He pushed back his chair and looked at her uncertainly. catch her in his arms. "I know this is wrong," she said, pressing against him. It might be wrong, but it was very pleasant, though he did guess her motives. She was a warmhearted girl and couldn't help pitying him. "You'll have to put me down," she said, averting her eyes. "Otherwise.... You're an intolerable funny man." He knew it—he could see himself in the mirror. He was something to the length of his thighs and lower legs, and the two rhythms could be reconciled. He swept along, gaining control of his muscles. He became matched his legs, they'd given him good ones. Last night, on an impulse, he'd left the hospital and now he had to go back. The hell she didn't—and it was the second time within the hour a woman had used that word on him. He wished they'd stop. He took back his hand, the slender one, an exquisite thing that might once have belonged On his way in, he miscalculated, or she did, and he brushed against her. The touch was pleasant, but not thrilling. That reaction seemed reserved for Erica. me your name. For some reason she seems upset." She did at that, he thought—probably bewildered by his appearance. The hospital didn't seem to have a calming influence on either her or the And you look well enough to stand the physical strain." He pressed the buzzer and an angular woman in her early forties returned to him. Her mouth opened and closed like that of a nervous goldfish and she darted from the room. doctor and used to it. Furthermore, he probably had room for only one emotion at the moment—relief at the return of his patient. the adoration she had showed so openly for her employer seemed to have curdled in the last few moments. body, excepting the blood, constitute proof more positive than fingerprints before the surgical exchange of limbs. Don't ask me why—no one knows. But it is true that cells differ from one body to the next, and this test detects the difference." The mass-cell radiographs did seem identical and Dr. Crander seemed understand why Erica couldn't believe he was her husband. The other just didn't understand. "But the size—it doesn't match my arm!" "Doesn't could do for him until it was too late. How long could he expect Erica to wait? The doctor hadn't finished the medical session. "Replacement of body parts is easy, after all. The big trouble came when we went into the brain."

<question>:
What did Dan think Erica's motivation was for coming onto him physically?

<options>:
A She was afraid of him
B She felt sorry for him
C She missed him
D She like his new body

<answer>:

B