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. The image did not move. I want to leave Paris to-day. ’ ‘I do not need the rescue from such as you. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her.
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