” She nodded. Monsieur Charvill, he has not the means to choose different. 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. ” He looked down at his heavy Sears work boots as Mrs. ” “I don’t know who you are,” Ennison said quietly, “but you are a thundering liar. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. .
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