"Do not lose hope," he encouraged her, "for who knows but that it may be very soon that you will return to the surface."
"'Return'," she repeated. "I have never been there."
"Never been to the surface! You mean since you were captured."
"I was born in this chamber," she told him, "and never have I been out of it."
"You are a slave of the second generation and are still confined to the quarries—I do not understand it. In all Minunian cities, I have been told, slaves of the second generation are given the white tunic and comparative freedom above ground."
"It was not for me. My mother would not permit it. She would rather I had died than mated with a Veltopismakusian or another slave, as I must do if I go into the city above."
"But how do you avoid it? Your masters certainly do not leave such things to the discretion of their slaves."
"Where there are so many one or two may go unaccounted for indefinitely, and women, if they be ill-favored, cause no comment upon the part of our masters. My birth was never reported and so they have no record of me. My mother took a number for me from the tunic of one who died, and in this way I attract no attention upon the few occasions that our masters or the warriors enter our chamber."
"But you are not ill-favored—your face would surely attract attention anywhere," Tarzan reminded her.
For just an instant she turned her back upon him, putting her hands to her face and to her hair, and then she faced him again and the ape-man saw before him a hideous and wrinkled hag upon whose crooked features no man would look a second time.