And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. . But when she turned her thoughts to Morningside Park she perceived the tangled skein of life was now to be further complicated by his romantic importunity. He too was flushed and ruffled; one side of his collar had slipped from its stud and he held a hand to the corner of his jaw. "Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. .
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