E. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. ” Her urge to drink deeply of his blood was growing insane, ignited by what he had already donated. It was the blood she found that cemented her decision that her foster daughter was a criminal. 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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