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

<passage>:
A night without darkness passed. Ben lay waiting for Maggie's return, a question already formed in his mind. She came and at once he asked, "Who is the man with the red beard?" were looking for him, weren't you?" "Who is he?" She sat on the chair beside him. "My husband," she said softly. and hares ... or was it follow the leader? Ben Curtis eased his pale, gaunt body through the open doorway of the there, Ben saw moving figures. He could not tell if they were Earthmen, Martians or Venusians. Someone tugged at his greasy coat. He jumped, thinking absurdly that it was the dead man's hand. " He told her the tales he'd heard. She nodded. "There are quite a few of us now—about a thousand—and a a red-skinned marionette with pipestem arms and legs, clad in a torn skivvy shirt and faded blue dungarees. "I'm American," Ben muttered. "Ah, like yourself and Jacob." "Jacob? Your husband?" She laughed. "Makes you think of a Biblical character, doesn't it? The boy grabbed his hand. Because Ben could think of no reason for They stood solitary and motionless, aloof, their green-lidded eyes unblinking. They certainly didn't look like telepaths, as Ben had heard they were, but the thought sent a fresh rivulet of fear down his spine. Once he spied a white-uniformed officer of Hoover City's Security Police. The man was striding down an aisle, idly tapping his neuro-club When she left, his eyes were still turned toward Jacob's photo. He was like two people, he thought. Half of him was an officer of the Space Corps. Perhaps one single starry-eyed boy out of ten thousand was lucky enough to reach that goal. , Ben told himself. You look the same as anyone else He remembered a little picture book his mother had given him when she here. Keep walking. Look straight ahead. Keep walking forgotten grandeur. For an instant, Ben's mind rose above the haunting vision of the dead man. He thought, the red beard. It's the only way you can escape the dead man. The dead man was real. His name was Cobb. He was stout and flabby and about forty and he hated spacemen. His body was buried now—probably in the silent gray wastes outside Luna City. But he'd become a kind of invisible Siamese twin, as much a part of Ben as sight in his eyes. Sometimes the image would be shuffling drunkenly beside him, its lips spitting whiskey-slurred curses. He stopped alone in a rocketfront bar for a beer. The man named Cobb "Spacemen," he muttered, "are getting like flies. Everywhere, all you see's spacemen." He was a neatly dressed civilian. Ben smiled. "If it weren't for spacemen, you wouldn't be here." Ben stiffened. He was twenty-four and dressed in the white, crimson-braided uniform of the Odyssey's uniform was like a key to all the mysteries of the Universe. He'd sought long for that key. At the age of five—perhaps in order to dull the memory of his parents' At sixteen, he'd spent every weekend holiday hitchhiking from Boys Town No. 5 in the Catskills to Long Island Spaceport. There, among the grizzled veterans of the old Moon Patrol, he'd found friends who Cobb was persistent: "Damn fools shoulda known enough to stay on Earth. Cobb followed. "You don't like the truth, eh, kid? You don't like Ben rose and started to leave the bar, but Cobb grabbed his arm and Until this instant, Ben had suppressed his anger. Now, suddenly and His fist struck the man on the chin. Cobb's eyes gaped in shocked life. He sank to the floor, eyes glassy, blood tricking down his jaw. Ben knew that he was dead. Then, for a single absurd second, Ben was seized with terror—just as, a moment before, he'd been overwhelmed with anger. He ran. For some twenty minutes, he raced through a dizzying, nightmare world of dark rocketfront alleys and shouting voices and pursuing feet. At last, abruptly, he realized that he was alone and in silence. He saw He was sorry he'd hit Cobb, of course. He was not sorry he'd run. There was just one flaw in his decision. He hadn't realized that the memory of the dead man's face would haunt him, torment him, follow him So now he sat searching for a perhaps nonexistent red-bearded giant, and hoping and doubting and fearing, all at once. "You look for someone, He jumped. "Oh. You still here?" " n'est-ce-pas ?" "This isn't my first night here," Ben lied. "I've been around a while." Ben raised his hand as if to strike the boy. Minutes passed. There were two more whiskeys. A ceaseless parade of faces broke through the smoky veil that enclosed him—reddish balloon faces, scaly reptilian faces, white-skinned, slit-eyed faces, and reward must have been offered for his capture. Whom could he trust? The Martian kid, perhaps? Far down the darkened aisle nearest him, his eyes caught a flash of Each whiteness became brighter and closer, like shrinking spokes of a wheel with Ben as their focal point. You idiot! The damned Martian kid! You should have known! undisturbed. They stood unmoving, their staring eyes shifting lazily in Ben's direction. He froze as if yanked to a stop by a noose. His body seemed to be growing, swelling into balloon proportions. He knew that the tiny fifteen—maybe twenty—seconds before complete lethargy of mind and body overpowered him. In the dark world beyond his fading consciousness, he heard a voice yell, "Turn on the damn lights!" door closed behind him. The glare of the flashlight faded from his vision—if he still had vision. "You're sure?" the voice persisted. "I'm sure," Ben managed to say. from his throat. "No ... I'm sure ... sure." He didn't hear the answer or anything else. Ben Curtis had no precise sensation of awakening. Return to consciousness was an intangible evolution from a world of black nothingness to a dream-like state of awareness. to a translucent cloak of mist. A round, featureless shape hovered constantly above him—a face, he supposed. , he thought dimly. There were long periods of lethargy when he was aware of nothing. There were periods of light and of darkness. Gradually he grew aware of Always, it seemed, the face was above him, floating in the obscuring mist. Always, it seemed, the soft voice was echoing in his ears: aluminite bed and the outlines of his feet beneath a faded blanket. Finally he saw the face and figure that stood at his side. "You are better?" the kind voice asked. "Why?" he asked again. "It would be a long story. Perhaps I'll tell you tomorrow." A new thought, cloaked in sudden fear, entered his murky consciousness. "Tell me, will—will I be well again? Will I be able to walk?" When he next awoke, his gaze turned first to the window. There was light outside, but he had no way of knowing if this was morning, noon or afternoon—or on what planet. "Okay," he said. Lieutenant Curtis." "How did you learn my name? I destroyed all my papers—" "I know that you're twenty-four. Born July 10, 1971. Orphaned at four, you attended Boys Town in the Catskills till you were 19. You graduated She hesitated. He thought, Damn it, of all the questions, why did I

<question>:
What caused Ben to physically assault Cobb?

<options>:
A Cobb physically assaulted Ben first.
B Cobb's vocal disgust for spacemen.
C Ben was trying to prove a point about his masculinity.
D He thought he was someone else.

<answer>:

B