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

<passage>:
throat on the edge of a near-two-dimensional piece of paper. It took valor for them to hunt men in the world of men. In that fact lay a key to their character—if such utterly alien creatures could be said to have character. himself—desire that both of them loathed because it was implanted within them by their captors. They walked toward the house. the three female captives, barely nineteen. But with the eyes of the other two, especially Dana, upon him, he could not. "I guess I wasn't cut out to be a Turk," he said. "I don't feel at ease in a harem, even when it's supposedly my own." "You're not doing so badly," Dana replied acidly. "Lay off—he can't help it," said Eudalia unexpectedly. "He doesn't like it any better than we do." "But he doesn't have to—have them," objected Olga. She had a trace of A disc jockey's buoyant tones cut in quickly as the final ooooo faded. "This is Grady Martin, your old night-owl, coming to you with Tennant watched the girls as a sweet-voiced crooner began to ply Tennant caught Dana looking at him and there was near approval in her expression—approval that faded quickly as soon as she caught his gaze aroma of steak, it was almost tasteless. This was so with all of their foods, with their cigarettes, with everything in their prison—or their cage. Their captors were utterly without a human conception of smell, things are arranged here." "Thanks, Eudalia," said Tennant. "I think I can defend myself. But she's right, Dana. We're as helpless as—laboratory animals. They have the means to make us do whatever they want." "Why haven't they brought more of us through?" Eudalia asked, tamping haven't brought anyone through—not alive." "Why do they do it—the other way, I mean?" asked Dana. Tennant shrugged. "I don't know. I've been thinking about it. I suppose it's because they're pretty human." " Human! " Dana was outraged. "Do you call it human to—" "Hold on," he said. "They pass through their gateway to Earth at considerable danger and, probably, expense of some kind. Some of them don't come back. They kill those of us who put up a fight. Those who don't—or can't—they bring back with them. Live or dead, we're just laboratory specimens." "Maybe," Eudalia conceded doubtfully. Then her eyes blazed. "But the things they do—stuffing people, mounting their heads, keeping them on display in their—their whatever they live in. You call that human, Rog?" "Were you ever in a big-game hunter's trophy room?" Tennant asked quietly. "Or in a Museum of Natural History? A zoo? A naturalist's lab? Or even, maybe, photographed as a baby on a bear-skin rug?" "Of course not," he agreed. "In the one instance, we're the hunters, the breeders, the trophy collectors. In the other"—he shrugged—"we're the trophies." copied, though he did not know why. She laughed at him silently, tossed angrier way. The infants, protected by cellophane-like coverlets, were "Good," said Tennant, fighting down his anger. He kissed her, held her close, although neither of them felt desire at the moment. Their captors had seen to that Olga so scared. It isn't their fault." "And it's not yours," insisted Eudalia. "Don't let them make you think over. He had felt the inner tug of command, said good-by to the women The captor Tennant called auditory scale, just as perhaps they could smell, although not in any human sense. You will approach without use of your appendages. The command was as clear as if it had been spoken aloud. Tennant took a weren't mastering some of the alleged Guru arts. At once he felt probing investigation. Opal, like the rest of the captors, was as curious as a cat—or a human being. Tennant sat against a wall, drenched with sweat. There would be endless repetition before his workout was done. On Earth, dogs were said to be intellectually two-dimensional creatures. He wondered if they felt this helpless futility when their masters taught them to heel, to point, to retrieve. incomprehensible as an oil painting to an animal. Tennant wondered, cynically, what would happen if he were to demand everything but the date and season. Opal, like the rest of the captors, "There's no need for fright," he told her. "I believe I still own this there would be in a ghastly spot. He felt like a heel for wanting to leave them there, then knew that he would try somehow to get them out. Not, of course, anything that would endanger his remaining with Agatha the only way his captors would get him back would be as a taxidermist's specimen. He realized, shocked and scared, that his thoughts of escape had to strike. Nothing happened and he warily relaxed. Opal wasn't tapping his thoughts. Because he felt sure of his captive ... or because he couldn't on Earth? It was like being let out of a cage. Tennant grinned at the bookcase adolescent's. This hunger was real, not implanted. Everything would be real ... his love for her, the food he ate, the things he touched, his when it came, was more humiliating than a slap across a dog's snout. Opal had been too interested in the next lab specimen to bother about his thoughts—that was why he had been free to think of escape. But there was no pleasure in it, only a confirmation of his captor's He was not free of them. He understood all too well what they wanted him to do groomed, more assured than his memory of her. out of hand, but whose inherent aggressive grace had not yet deserted him. The man Roger! alive !" "Roger," repeated Tennant viciously. He felt sick with disgust. Maybe captors had let him. right to know. I do, anyway." "One question first," he said. "What about those killings? Have there brought the four of them through, not since they had begun to train him Take her back? He smiled ironically try to make trouble for Agatha, I can promise...." " exchanged with Cass. He turned away, knowing that she was imploring her lover to do something, anything , as long as it was safe. easier and pleasanter than he had expected. They deserved some of the suffering he had had and there was a chance that they might get it. Tennant knew now why he was the only male human the captors had been able to take alive. Apparently, thanks to the rain-slick road, he had had been sitting there, unconscious, ripe fruit on their doorstep. They had simply picked him up. Otherwise, apparently, men were next to impossible for them to capture. All they could do was kill them and bring back their heads and hides as trophies. With women it was different—perhaps the captors' weapons, whatever they were, worked more efficiently on females. A difference in body chemistry or psychology, perhaps. More than once, during his long training with Opal, Tennant had sent questing thoughts toward his captor, asking why they didn't simply set up the gateway in some town or city and take as many humans as they wanted. Surprisingly there had been a definite fear reaction. As nearly as he could understand, it had been like asking an African pygmy, armed with a blowgun, to set up shop in the midst of a herd of wild elephants. It simply wasn't feasible—and furthermore he derived an impression of the tenuosity as well as the immovability of the gateway itself.

<question>:
What does Roger respect about the captors?

<options>:
A They are adept at concealing themselves on Earth
B They represent the pinnacle of human evolution
C They have treated the captives with compassion
D They are bold enough to hunt humans in their own habitat

<answer>:

D