‘I am extremely displeased. 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. “I say!” he cried. “I want to make you happy, Lucy. "Given a chance, I can make bread and butter. ‘Now you see why it is I no longer require the proof of which I have spoken.
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