And he did not lack courage. He knew that he could translate literally. "It's better," observed Sheppard, meaningly. 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. "Impossible!" exclaimed the widow, wildly. Sheppard. She finished the olive and looked up.
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