" And, with a few magical touches, he stamped the fleeting expression on the canvass. He donned his winter coat. E. His voice propelled her to cry even harder, so hard that she began to laugh behind her tears. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. 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.
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