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The grain wagons had passed it. - (Kajira of Gor, Chapter 6, Sentence #217)

"Of course, Lady Sheila," he said. He need not know that I often, for no reason I clearly understood, in the loneliness of my quarters, slept at the lower end of the great couch, near the slave ring, and sometimes, seemingly almost unable to help myself, had slipped from the couch and knelt beside it in the darkness, and lifted it, and kissed it. "The wagon is moving now," I said. The grain wagons had passed it. It was now, again, pulling toward the center of the road, the high iron-rimmed wheels trundling on the stone, seeking the long, shallow, shiny, saucerlike ruts, polished in the stone by the earlier passage of countless vehicles. I had been sure it was a slave wagon, of course, from the blue-and-yellow silk. Outside the establishments of slavers there often hung streamers and banners in these colors, and sometimes, on the walls, or doors, or posts near the doors, these colors, in diagonal stripes or slashes, were painted. - (Kajira of Gor)