‘Moreover, no one will believe any more that Yolande is me when they see this. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. ” Annabel looked at her with terrified eyes. “I am off to-night,” he said. 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. “They seem to come to you as naturally as disappointment—to other people.
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