She pulled, he rose to his feet. 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. She surveyed accommodation that seemed at first merely austere, and became more and more manifestly inadequate as the moments fled by. You’ve got to take what you can get. I am really in earnest.
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