\" Diane chirped once again, ever-musical. . 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. ’ ‘What are you about now, child?’ demanded Martha apprehensively. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. ” He left at once, immensely relieved, yet scarcely satisfied with himself as regarded his share of the interview with this young woman. ’ With difficulty, Gerald bit back a laugh. . " "Peace!" retorted Jack, with increased bitterness.
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