"Got the rooms mixed. Yes!" she screamed, "these are his father's features! It is—it is my son!" "Mother!" cried Thames; "are you, indeed, my mother?" "I am, indeed—my own sweet boy!" she sobbed, pressing him tenderly to her breast. ‘Very well, never mind. But you must tell her. She had become neutral towards him and he had used the lesson to try to advance himself. "I can't hold it much longer—it'll break my wrist.
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