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. No, none at all. ‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. So, after the dinner was over, Spurlock took her home; and worked far into the night.
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