"What a very remarkable thing it is," he observed, applying to his snuff-box, "that Thames Darrell, whom we all supposed dead,"—Kneebone in his heart sincerely wished he had been so,—"should turn out to be alive after all. “Oh, yes, that’s right, we go to school. Here was an appalling fact: all her previous loneliness had been trifling beside that which now encompassed her and would for years to come. His fears supplied him with unwonted vigour. 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. I've opened the case of books. “I like to think of your offer. ” “Of course you’re converted?” she said. "Is she returned!" "Y—e—s, Sir Rowland," stammered Charcam. "With me?" said Thames. " Ruth had read from page to page in "The Child's Garden of Verse," generally unfamiliar to the admirers of Stevenson. But I vowed that Ruth should never suffer the way I did—and do.
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