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 remained for a few moments standing as though listening to his retreating footsteps. Or he would find something—a wave in her hair, a little line in the contour of her brow or neck, that made an exquisite discovery. What would happen when next morning she returned to Morningside Park? He couldn’t turn her out of doors. From midnight until morning he was now left alone. “Very well,” said Ann Veronica, with an air of concluding the discussion. Certainly I would not murder monsieur le major, even that he has made a threat to beat me. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. To be with you is the best moral tonic I know.
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