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Could it be that I was not alone, that I was not an isolated, shameful exception to the pompous glories of political orthodoxy? How rare is courage! How mighty is the shuffling, drifting, dull, pressing herd! Eve, Jane, and I exchanged frightened glances. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #158)

Her straight, menacing figure was outlined against the wide window behind her. I soon realized, from the books on her desk, that Eve and Jane, too, were familiar with such books. I wondered how many other women, and men, knew of such things. Could it be that I was not alone, that I was not an isolated, shameful exception to the pompous glories of political orthodoxy? How rare is courage! How mighty is the shuffling, drifting, dull, pressing herd! Eve, Jane, and I exchanged frightened glances. Oddly, I wondered which of us might be found most beautiful on a Gorean slave block. Do not women wonder about such things? And what of Nora, and my enemies in the house? Would they be so different, barefoot in the sawdust, turned, exhibited, in the torchlight, being bid upon? "Shame! Shame!" said Mrs. Rawlinson, pointing to the books on the desk before her, the window behind her. - (Conspirators of Gor)