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Perhaps her secret, that of her former identity, would be known to few. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 8, Sentence #1046)

I knew little about the former Lady Persinna, or the affairs, political and otherwise, which had brought her to a tiny, readying cell in the Metellan district, but I hoped that her master would put a different name on her. Given the veiling, and half-veiling, particularly amongst higher-caste women, I would suppose that few in the city would recognize the former Lady Persinna in just another scantily clad collar-girl, one amongst many, hurrying about her errands, fearing to dally, in teeming Ar. Perhaps many might suppose the Lady Persinna had perished in the revolution, or in her imprisonment, in some obscure dungeon, perhaps strangled there, or had perhaps eventually met her end writhing on some obscure impaling stake. Perhaps her secret, that of her former identity, would be known to few. Indeed, perhaps, eventually, for most practical purposes, it would be a secret shared primarily between the slave and her master. Then, as she knelt, and kissed and licked at his feet, she might hope that he would not see fit to reveal her former identity. Could she be so pleasing to him? Too, her life had been transformed. - (Conspirators of Gor)