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. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. ‘That’s just it. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. I stubbornly insisted that we wait, and you woke up. She wants that and needs it more than anything else in the world.
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