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

<passage>:
Illustrated by Freas Miss Abercrombie, the manual therapist patted the old man on the shoulder. "You're doing just fine, Mr. Lieberman. Show it to me when you have finished." The oldster in the stained convalescent suit gave her a quick, shy smile and went back to his aimless smearing in the finger paints. Miss Abercrombie smoothed her smock down over trim hips and surveyed the other patients working at the long tables in the hospital's arts and lounged beside the locked door and chatted idly about the Dodgers' prospects for the pennant. The therapist strolled down the line of tables, pausing to give a word of advice here, and a suggestion there. She stopped behind a frowning, intense patient, rapidly shaping blobs of clay into odd-sized strips and forms. As he finished each piece, he "And what are we making today, Mr. Funston?" Miss Abercrombie asked. The flying fingers continued to whip out the bits of shaped clay as the patient ignored the question. He hunched closer to his table as if to draw away from the woman. "We mustn't be antisocial, Mr. Funston," Miss Abercrombie said lightly, but firmly. "You've been coming along famously and you must remember to answer when someone talks to you. Now what are you making? It looks very complicated." She stared professionally at the maze of clay parts. Thaddeus Funston continued to mold the clay bits and put them in place. Without looking up from his bench he muttered a reply. "Did," Funston murmured. Safely behind the patient's back, Miss Abercrombie smiled ever so slightly. "Why that's very good, Mr. Funston. That shows real creative thought. I'm very pleased." She patted him on the shoulder and moved down the line of patients. A few minutes later, one of the attendants glanced at his watch, stood up and stretched. being moved back. A tall, blond patient with a flowing mustache, put one more dab of paint on his canvas and stood back to survey the meaningless smears. He sighed happily and laid down his palette. warm, afternoon sunlight and the door closed behind them. Miss Abercrombie gazed around the cluttered room and picked up her chart book of patient progress. Moving slowly down the line of benches, she made short, precise notes on the day's work accomplished by each patient. lengthily in her chart book. When she had completed her rounds, she slipped out of the smock, tucked the chart book under her arm and left the crafts building for the day. As she drove out of the hospital grounds, Thaddeus Funston stood at the At 3:01 a.m., Thaddeus Funston stirred in his sleep and awakened. He sat sheltered the deserted crafts building. He gave a quick cry, shut his eyes and clapped his hands over his face. the arts and crafts building. Thaddeus Funston took his hands from his face and lay back in his bed with a small, secret smile on his lips. Attendants and nurses scurried men offered timidly. "Not over three kilotons." "I don't care if it was the size of a peanut," Thurgood screamed. "How did it get here?" with exasperation, "this was our manual therapy room. We gave our patients art work. It was a means of getting out of their systems, through the use of their hands, some of the frustrations and problems Madame Curie was a misguided scrubwoman." "All I know is that you say this was a crafts building. O.K. So it was," "And I've got to find out how it happened." Thurgood slumped into a field chair and gazed tiredly up at the little doctor. "Where's that girl you said was in charge of this place?" "We've already called for Miss Abercrombie and she's on her way here now," the doctor snapped. Outside the tent, a small army of military men and AEC technicians moved around the perimeter of the crater, scintillators in hand, examining Colonel Thurgood, who had snapped from his chair at her words, leaped forward to catch her as she collapsed in a faint. At 4:00 p.m., the argument was still raging in the long, narrow staff room of the hospital administration building. Colonel Thurgood, looking more like a patient every minute, sat on the edge of his chair at the head of a long table and pounded with his fist on the wooden surface, making Miss Abercrombie's chart book bounce with every beat. "It's ridiculous," Thurgood roared. "We'll all be the laughingstocks of are all nuts. You're in the right place, but count me out." At his left, Miss Abercrombie cringed deeper into her chair at the broadside. Down both sides of the long table, psychiatrists, physicists, strategists and radiologists sat in various stages of nerve-shattered weariness. "Miss Abercrombie," one of the physicists spoke up gently, "you say that "And you say that, to the best of your knowledge," the physicist "I'm positive that's all there was in it," Miss Abercrombie cried. There was a renewed buzz of conversation at the table and the senior AEC man present got heads together with the senior intelligence man. They the IQ of an ape could make an atomic bomb out of kid's modeling clay? "They'd crucify us, that's what they'd do!" At 8:30 that night, Thaddeus Funston, swathed in an Army officer's secrecy under the National Atomic Secrets Act, bundled Thaddeus aboard Abercrombie and with a roar, the plane raced down the runway and into Miss Abercrombie. "Now you're positive this is just about the same amount and the same Thaddeus Funston between them. The colonel nudged Miss Abercrombie. She smiled at Funston. "Now isn't this nice, Mr. Funston," she said. "These nice men have A flicker of interest lightened Thaddeus' face. He looked around the walked to the table and sat down. His fingers began working the damp clay, making first the hollow, half-round shell while the nation's top atomic scientists watched in fascination. His busy fingers flew through the clay, shaping odd, flat bits and clay parts that were dropped almost aimlessly into the open hemisphere in front of him. Miss Abercrombie stood at his shoulder as Thaddeus hunched over the table just as he had done the previous day. From time to time she glanced at her watch. The maze of clay strips grew and as Funston finished shaping the other half hemisphere of clay, she broke the tense silence. "Time to go back now, Mr. Funston. You can work some more tomorrow." She looked at the men and nodded her head. The two psychiatrists went to Thaddeus' side as he put the upper lid of "I told you this whole thing was asinine," Thurgood snarled as the door, looking uprange over the heat-shimmering desert. He gave a sudden Six hours and a jet plane trip later, Thaddeus, once again in his strait across a half-opened transom into the room where Thaddeus Funston sat in In the next room, Thaddeus Funston stared out over the sweeping panorama THE END

<question>:
Which statement about the relationship between Thaddeus Funston and Miss Abercrombie is most true, based on the facts in the story?

<options>:
A She encourages him to keep making progress over time as she supervises him in one area of his treatment
B Thaddeus has long confided in Miss Abercrombie as his therapist and she is shocked that someone she trusted closely would cause so much damage
C Miss Abercrombie has long considered Thaddeus a problem student of hers and is frustrated by his behavior
D She tries to stifle his creative instincts and doesn't let him express himself the way he wants

<answer>:

A