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. Wood. Almost simultaneously they burst out laughing. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander.
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