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My smallness, my contemptuousness, I had unwittingly flaunted before him, regarding such things at that time as signs of my depth and cleverness. Too, he seemed to find me, in some way, and I did not fully understand it, maddeningly desirable. This had to do, it seemed, with some unusual and subtle relationship between us. These things, doubtless in part because of his pride and self-image, his reluctance to accept tenderness, his fear of feeling and sentiment, his lofty conceptions of the attitudes and behaviors proper to his caste, had driven him half mad with frustration. Yet, too, he had, with Menicius, risked his life in the camp of Miles of Argentum to free me, and he had sought desperately to protect and defend me in the inquiry with Claudius and the high council. It was clear, I think, he cared for me deeply. In all this, of course, he regarded me as little more than a curvaceous, scheming slave, one who did not care for him, but one who, to protect herself, would do anything, even pretend falsely to love. - (Kajira of Gor, Chapter )