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"Forgive me," he said, "but in this wry contretemps your veil slackened, a misfortune for you but a splendid boon to the discerning masculine eye". - (Plunder of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #102)

"You know very well, miserable she-tarsk! Remove your tunic. You will rue the Ehn you obstructed my way, and dared to lie to me!" "Forgive me," exclaimed a man, "but I am much smitten with your beauty!" I surely did not need such an appraisal at this time, however welcome it might have been at another time, under different circumstances, the free woman standing over me, switch in hand. Might she not be further incensed? And, too, was I not a copper-tarsk girl, a mere copper-tarsk girl? The free woman spun about, to regard the fellow who had spoken, he in the white and gold of the Merchants, and his robes well draped. "Forgive me," he said, "but in this wry contretemps your veil slackened, a misfortune for you but a splendid boon to the discerning masculine eye". "Oh?" said the free woman. "Forgive me," he said, "but I could not but note, however inadvertently, the loveliness of your features". She reached to the street veil, but did not hastily fasten it in place. - (Plunder of Gor)