They must have a key. 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. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. But it was almost choked up with fallen stacks of chimneys, broken beams of timber, and shattered tiles.
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