She flew up the covered stairs and knocked upon his door. All through that brief but measureless space of time during which wonder kept him silent, as fear did her, she cowered there, a limp helpless object. 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. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. “I thought that I heard a groan,” Anna whispered. He did not look at her directly, though she fantasized that she could 141 feel his stares from the back of the class on occasion. ” “What?” “That’s the devil of it!” “Devil of what?. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. END OF THE SECOND EPOCH.
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