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. “I thought I saw her in town to-day,” he said. He did not explain what had happened to her. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. You had better go to bed. “There, there, now. Wild, and his uncle, Sir Rowland Trenchard. . ” He said. It filled her with indefinable fear.
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