The edge of that cool ebony cabinet seemed to be burning her fingers.

Try however hard, she could not frame the question which had risen to her lips.
"The price," he continued, "is you--yourself.

A few hours ago it was your love I craved for.

Now it is yourself." He was so near to her now that she faced the steady radiance of his wonderful eyes, so near that she could trace the faint lines about his mouth, the strong, stern immobility of his perfectly shaped, olive-tinted features.
"You are too wonderful," he went on, "to remain a daughter of the crude West.

I want to take you back with me to the land where life still moves to poetry, to the land where one can live in a world unknown by these struggling hordes.