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I glanced no more at her, but put my hand on the foreleg of Nar, gently, so that I might not injure any of the sensory hairs. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 7, Sentence #16)

"Who could refuse anything to the daughter of a Ubar?" I said, and then added—maliciously, it seems now—"Good luck in the swamps". She stopped and shuddered. Her robes still bore the wide lateral stain where the tongue of the tharlarion had wrapped itself. I glanced no more at her, but put my hand on the foreleg of Nar, gently, so that I might not injure any of the sensory hairs. "Well, Brother," I said, remembering the insult of the daughter of the Ubar, "shall we continue our journey?" I wanted Nar to understand that not all humankind were as contemptuous of the Spider People as the daughter of the Ubar. "Indeed, Brother," responded the mechanical voice of Nar. And surely I would rather have been a brother to that gentle, rational monster than many of the barbarians I had met on Gor. - (Tarnsman of Gor)