She doesn't love you; she hasn't the least idea what it means beyond what she has read in novels. 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. ’ ‘Well, I am glad he did not,’ intervened Lucilla, forestalling another withering comment from the captain.
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