"From Lady Trafford's, where I took the box. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. Jesus! They just wouldn’t let up about you after you played the violin for them. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. ” She rose up. 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. ” He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her tone, and he at once abandoned the subject.
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