The same old lines and verses, over and over, until there had come times when shrieking would have relieved her. 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. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow.
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