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. There was only one clean spot in the picture—the ship's wash (all white) that fluttered on a line stretched between the two masts. “Very well,” said Manning. ” Mr. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes.
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