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

<passage>:
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Anybody who shunned a Cure needed his head examined—assuming he had one left! Henry Infield placed the insulated circlet on his head gently. The serious about this, why not just the shoes?" The sickness overcame him. He sat down on Morgan's desk. "That's just one thing, the gyro ball. There are so many others, so many." Morgan smiled. "You know, Henry, not all of our Cures are so—so—not all are like that. Those Cures for mother complexes aren't even obvious. If anybody does see that button in a patient's ear, it looks like a hearing aid. Yet for a nominal sum, the patient is equipped to hear the soothing recorded voice of his mother saying, 'It's all right, everything's all right, Mommy loves you, it's all right....'" "But "At first, Clyde—only at first. But what about the severe case where we have to burn a three-dimensional smiling mother-image on the eyes of he'll turn violently schizophrenic sooner or later—and you know it. The only cure we have for that is still a strait jacket, a padded cell or one of those inhuman lobotomies." sporting a Mom-voice hearing aid and was afraid of raising her ire. He "Price," the other answered absently. "George Price. I suppose they Infield supposed it was a Cure, although he had never issued one like it. He didn't know if it would be good form to inquire what kind it was. "It's a cure for alcoholism," Price told him. "It runs a constant blood check to see that the alcohol level doesn't go over the sobriety limit." "What happens if you take one too many?" Price looked off as if at something not particularly interesting, but more interesting than what he was saying. "It drives a needle into my temple and kills me." The psychiatrist felt cold fury rising in him. The Cures were supposed "What kind of irresponsible idiot could have issued such a device?" he demanded angrily. "I did," Price said. "I used to be a psychiatrist. I was always good in shop. This is a pretty effective mechanism, if I say so myself. It can't be removed without causing my death and it's indestructible. The psychiatrist knew the threat on the father's part couldn't create such a fixation by itself. His eyebrows faintly inquired. Price nodded jerkily. "Twenty years ago, at least." Price fumbled with the cigarette stub in the black iron ashtray, Cured," he said as a reminder. Price looked up, no longer interested in the relic of a cigarette. He ." Infield's throat went dry. "And you're the one to deal with them?" "It's my Destiny." Price quickly added, "And yours, too, of course." Price started to glance around the cafe, then half-shrugged, almost visibly thinking that he shouldn't run that routine into the ground. "We'll Cure them whether they want to be Cured or not—for their own Price was the type of man who could spread his ideas throughout the ranks of the Cured—if indeed the plot was not already universal, imposed upon many ill minds. He could picture an entirely Cured world and he didn't like the view. Every Cure cut down on the mental and physical abilities of the patient as it was, whether Morgan and the others admitted it or not. But if everyone had a crutch to lean on for one phobia, he would develop secondary symptoms. People would start needing two Cures—perhaps a foetic gyro and a safety belt—then another and another. There would always be a crutch else—until everyone would be loaded down with too many Cures to operate. A Cure was a last resort, dope for a malignancy case, euthanasia for the hopeless. Enforced Cures would be a curse for the individual and the race. relief for neurotic or psychopathic symptoms on someone who didn't want or need it? "Perhaps you don't see how it could be done," Price said. "I'll and suave, draped clothes. In this den of the Cured, Infield thought half-humorously, it was surprising to see a Normal—an "Incomplete." But then he noticed something about the baby she carried. The Cure had been very simple. It wasn't even a mechanized half-human robot, just a rag doll. She sat down at the table. "George," she said, "drink it. One drink won't raise your alcohol index to the danger point. You've got to get over this fear of even the sight He's not an alcoholic. He didn't need to put that Cure on his head. It's just an excuse for not drinking. All of this is just because a while back something happened to the baby here—" she adjusted the doll's blanket—"when he was drinking. Just drinking, not drunk. "I don't remember what happened to the baby—it wasn't important. But George has been brooding about it ever since. I guess he thinks Price laughed shortly. "I feel like doing something very melodramatic, like throwing my drink—and yours—across the room, but I haven't got the guts to touch those glasses. Do it for me, will you? Cauterizing at the drink. Makes me laugh." Price wiped the sweat off his palms. Infield sat and thought. Mrs. Price cooed to the rag doll, unmindful of either of them now. "You were explaining," the psychiatrist said. "You were going to tell me how you were going to Cure the Incompletes." unless they were absolutely necessary." one hand, brushing off rain drops with the other. He stopped beside Price and glared. Price leaned back. The chair creaked. Mrs. Price kept cooing to the doll. "You made me fall," Davies accused. Price shrugged. "You were unconscious. You never knew it." dragging Price out of his chair and onto the floor. Davies didn't mind Price's head and shoulders and then around his feet. He crouched beside Price twisted against the binding lines in blind terror, gagging and spouting whiskey. Davies laughed and tilted the bottle more. Mrs. Price screamed. "The Cure! If you get that much liquor in his system, it will kill him!" She rocked the rag doll in her arms, trying to soothe it, and stared in horror. Infield hit the big man behind the ear. He dropped the bottle and fell same as when he had diagnosed his first case. No, better than that. "That taste of liquor didn't kill you, Price. Nothing terrible happened. You could find some way to get rid of that Cure." Price stared at him as if he were a padded-cell case. "That's different. I'd be a hopeless drunk without the Cure. Besides, no one ever gets rid of a Cure." . We've got to go after him." "It's slippery," Davies whimpered. "I might fall." Mrs. Price cuddled her rag doll. "I can't leave the baby and she mustn't get wet." "Well, there's no liquor out there and you can study your text in the knew that Price was going to kill him in the next moment. "Just a moment." Morgan switched on the room lights. "What were you saying?" "Mr. Infield went out without his Cure in a storm and was struck by lightning. We took him to the morgue. He must have been crazy to go out without his Cure."

<question>:
Why did Mrs. Price carry around a baby?

<options>:
A The baby was a mechanized half-human robot that functioned as Mrs. Price's Cure for the trauma she experienced after accidentally killing her real child.
B It made her feel matronly, which was a kind of Cure for the trauma she had experienced as a child.
C The baby was the child she had with her husband, George Price.
D It was a doll that functioned as her Cure for the trauma experienced after the death of her baby whose passing was as a result of Mr. Price's drinking.

<answer>:

D