This was not the sort of confession which he had been expecting. S. 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 did all for the best, as I'll explain. We felt like thieves. He walked her home. " "You're a philosopher, too. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him.
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