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 was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. "I'm not particular about rooms. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. "Oh, God! that I might die too," cried Jack, falling on his knees beside her.
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