” He turned to the waiter, who held a wine-card. " "But you will,—won't you?" she rejoined, looking him coaxingly in the face. 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. Gerald frowned. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. There is a new life, different from the old life of dependence, possible.
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