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

<passage>:
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 look familiar," she said cautiously. "The brown one, I mean." "The brown had to use whatever was handy." "I suppose so—but shouldn't they have tried to stick to the original color scheme?" "My name is Dan Merrol." They hadn't—he'd read it on the chart. But he had been alone in the room and the name had to be his, and anyway he felt like Dan Merrol. "Your name is Erica." "They told you that too." 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 walked out and no one had stopped him. was her face as he looked through the door. Her name hadn't been on the chart nor her address and yet he had found her. That proved something, didn't it? "How could I forget you?" he demanded. to convince her there. But he'd been frantic to get home. "It was quite a smashup," he said. "You'll have to expect some lapses." "I'm making allowances. But can't you tell me something about myself?" He thought—and couldn't. He wasn't doing so well. "Another lapse," he said gloomily and then brightened. "But I can tell you lots about "Erica. You're the seventh and best." It was just too many, now that he Did that mean he wasn't right on anything else? From the expression on her face, it did. "You've got to expect me to be confused in the beginning. Can't you really tell who I am?" "I can't ! You don't have the same personality at all." She glanced at "It's not just that, darling. Go over to the mirror." He had been seriously injured and he was still weak from the shock. He they were patching him up, did they really think he needed black, red and brown hair? He wondered how a beagle felt. What were they, a bunch of humorists? Did they, for comic effect, piece together a body out of bits and scraps left over from a chopping block? It was himself he was looking at, otherwise he'd say the results were neither hideous nor horrible, but merely—well, what? Ludicrous and laughable—and there were complications in that too. Who wants to be an involuntary clown, a physical buffoon that Mother Nature hadn't duplicated since Man began? He felt the stubble on his face with his left hand—he He hobbled over to a chair and sat down, staring miserably at Erica as generally, though not around the chest. It was difficult and in addition to his physique there were the memories he couldn't account for. Come to think of it, he must have Erica came close and leaned comfortingly against him, but he wasn't 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 they let you out wearing those clothes—or for that matter, why they let you out at all." He must have given some explanation as he'd stumbled through the door. What was it? "When I brought the clothes yesterday, they told me I couldn't see you out of the regrowth tank—where no one could see you—and they didn't know the clothes wouldn't fit. You were covered with a sheet, sleeping, I think. They let me peek in and I could make out a corner of your 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 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 possible supervision, he should be encouraged to make his own decisions and carry them through by himself, even though running a slight risk of 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 accident —and that was where he'd got the idea. There had been other marks too, but he hadn't been able to decipher them. He Merrol." 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 that due to? 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 "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 reconciled. He swept along, gaining control of his muscles. He became aware that he was whizzing past everyone. He slowed down—he didn't want to attract attention. It was difficult but he learned to walk at a pedestrian pace. However poorly they'd matched his legs, they'd given him good ones. "Then the director can't see you." The girl looked up and her firmly polite expression became a grimace of barely suppressed laughter. Then laughter was swept away. What replaced it he couldn't say, but it reserved for Erica. Dan Merrol." Dan Merrol?" recognize you immediately." He exhaled peevishly. "Where did you go? We've been searching for you everywhere." It seemed wiser to Dan not to tell him everything. "It was stuffy would have kept someone on duty through the night." They had underestimated him, but he didn't mind. Of course, he didn't Merrol wasn't as pleased as the doctor appeared to be. "Granted you can identify me as the person who came out of regrowth—but does that mean I'm Dan Merrol? Could there be a mistake?" They see me and flee as fast as they can caper , thought Merrol. It was not wholly true—Crander didn't seem much affected. But he was a company for which you worked." Merrol winced. The photographic sequence was incontrovertible. He had been a handsome fellow. certain. Taken altogether, the evidence was overwhelming. There had been no mistake—he was Dan Merrol, though it was not difficult to 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 match ?" cried the doctor. "Do you have any idea of the of surgical skill." He moved the hand experimentally, to show Merrol Merrol turned away miserably. There were other things, but he had Merrol obeyed and could feel the doctor's forefinger slice across his

<question>:
Does Dan Merrol want to make it work with Erica?

<options>:
A Yes, Dan knows that no one else will love him
B Yes, she seems to Dan to be an excellent wife
C No, he wants to have an open mind to other women
D No, he wants to hide his appearance from everyone

<answer>:

B