’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. 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. ” “The posters at least,” Anna answered quietly, “I have some claim to. Even now she could trace the outline of his shape behind the left-hand curtain.
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