"Mr. 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. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. "You are giving that chap the boot rather suddenly?" "Had to. ‘Yes, miss.
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