CHAPTER XXVI Spurlock went out on his toes, careful lest the bamboo curtain rattle behind him. 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. He took his social pleasures once a year in Hong-Kong, after Easter. . ’ ‘Who, Joan, who? Of whom do you speak?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham.
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