On this side of the canal she has no place to go. 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. Naturally you shout yourself hoarse when she has finished, and feel jolly pleased with yourself. Ray Plote would not leave a written explanation. “Here is my card. Go to it. Ain't you, Jacky darling?" "Not quite, Poll," returned Mr.
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