Surely he was imagining this picture. ” “No, it’s just a surprise. Edward Bribble stood between them with an open book. 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. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. Ah, Thierry and Poussaint, if my memory serves me. I am quite indiscriminate, I assure you.
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