“It’s the warming up of the year, the coming of the light mornings, the way in which everything begins to run about and begin new things. "But, I own, I think it is like. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. " "And I promise that all you tell me and show me will sink in," replied O'Higgins, frankly interested. Earles protested, seating himself before the desk, and dipping his pen in the ink. She suspected that he would take a mistress just as soon as they returned to Florence. 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 am sure.
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