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She had begged me to forgive her, as though a word from me would make all things right. - (Tribesmen of Gor, Chapter 26, Sentence #175)

After she had falsely testified against me at Nine Wells, she had smiled, slyly, in triumph, pleased with her work, pleased that I would be sent to the brine pits of Klima; I had escaped from Nine Wells, but, recaptured, was enchained, destined for Klima; I well recalled her elation, her contempt, her scorn, as she had looked down upon me, helpless in the chain; she had flung me a token, something by which to remember her, a bit of slave silk, redolent with slave perfume; she had blown me a kiss, smiling, before being ordered back to her barred alcove by the slave master who at that time was supervising her. I would not forget pretty Vella. Now I owned her. She had begged me to forgive her, as though a word from me would make all things right. When she had been flung to the feet of Hakim of Tor, she had looked up, in terror, then joy, seeing then who was Hakim of Tor, the master to whom I had consigned her, myself. "Do not rise, Slave Girl," I told her. "Am I forgiven, Tarl?" she had begged. - (Tribesmen of Gor)