" Sir Rowland caught at a chair for support, and passed his hand across his brow, on which the damp had gathered thickly. And, thrusting a piece of iron into his mouth, he forced him out of the room. ” Her eyes glinted, macabre. She replied softly. “I know. ” “Yes. 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. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. . It was not the type of household where one could come and go at all hours, for this she was glad.
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