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. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. I examined the Condemned Hold myself carefully this morning, and didn't find a nail out of its place.
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