. Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. Lost, stolen, or strayed, the Young Person!. His fingers slipped under the collar of her linen shift and he tore it open with a swipe. 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. "Do not despair, my sweet soul," said Wood, in a soothing tone. But it seemed that their presence was not even suspected.
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