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. Only Gwen left a letter on the pincushion. Ramage seemed always fencing about the forbidden topic, probing for openings, and she wondered why she did not give him them.
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