‘She’s wearing a lightskirt’s clothing?’ ‘Nothing obviously so, I assure you. 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. Wood strained his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flying skiff. "The door!—the door!—death!" he added, as he tried the handle, "it is locked—and I am unarmed.
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