"Do you love her?" asked Samos.
"Of course!" I shouted, angrily.
"It has been many years," said Samos.
"It matters not," I muttered.
"You are both, perhaps, other than you were."
"Do you care to dispute these matters with the sword?" I asked.
"I might," said Samos, "if you could establish the pertinence of the procedure to the issues involved."
I looked down, furious.
"It is possible," said Samos, "that it is an image you love, and not a woman, that it is not a person, but a memory."
"Those who have never loved," I told him bitterly, "must not speak of what they cannot know."
Samos did not seem angry. "Perhaps," he said.
"It is your move," I told him.

Hunters of Gor
--John Norman