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. Lucy stood in front of the piano. \"Thanks for walking me home. He thought he heard a scraping sound as he turned the handle. “But your sister?” he asked. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. There was a Greyhound bus that she was overdue to ride. She could not say a word, much less move.
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