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. " "What else did you do when alone?" "I read the encyclopaedia. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened.
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