I was quite as much annoyed as you were to see Mr. I cannot go on. “I do not blame him. 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. Now lend me your own hand. But remember my warning, and play the game!" Spurlock closed his eyes again. “I knew Mr. Analysis would come later, when the primitive conscience, satisfied, would cease to dominate his thought and action.
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