There are many threads and many knots in a net; these can not be thrown together haphazard, lest the big fish slip through.

At the bottom of the net is a small steel ring, and here the many threads and the many knots finally meet.

Forbes and Haggerty (who, by the way, thinks I'm a huge joke as a novelist) and the young man named Webb recounted this tale to me by threads and knots.

The ring was of Kitty Killigrew, for Kitty Killigrew, by Kitty Killigrew, to paraphrase a famous line.
At one of the quieter hotels--much patronized by touring Englishmen--there was registered James Thornden and man.

Every afternoon Mr.Thornden and his man rode about town in a rented touring car.