’ ‘We had other matters on hand this morning,’ Roding told him sharply. . . He paced faster, stomping around. Stir a foot, and I strike. My sinuses are so swollen up right now. 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. . ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once.
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