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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 reached a tiny yellow-fronted cottage covered with flowering creepers, and entered the front room by the wide-open window. ’ She raised the pistol. “Leave them!” He yelled. This was irregular.

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