His love almost terrified her.

What awful responsibility lay in her hand?
But civilization commanded her to dress in her best, and go down and dance gaily and play her part in the world.
"Oh! what slaves we are, Morri!" she exclaimed, as though speaking her thoughts aloud, for the remark had nothing to do with what the Princess had said.
Moravia, who was lying on the sofa not in the best of moods either, answered gloomily: "Yes, slaves--or savages.

The truth is, we are nearly all animals more or less.

Some are caught by wiles, and some are trapped, and some revel in being captured--and a few--a few are like me--they get away as a bird with a shot in its wing." Sabine was startled--what was agitating her friend?
"But your troubles are over, Morri, darling--your wings are strong and free!" "I said there was a shot in one of them." Sabine came and sat upon a stool beside her, and took and caressed her hand.
"Something has hurt you, dearest," she cooed, rubbing Moravia's arm with her velvet cheek.

"What is it ?" "No, I am not hurt--I am only cynical.