" On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. 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. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it. Besides, I would tear out my tongue rather than let it speak her mother's infamy. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that.
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