The evil in his eyes towards her was explosive. 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. You called yourself a murderess. From all angles he was at a disadvantage—in weight, skill, endurance. The hills surrounded her cave home protectively.
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