Probably a sick man's whim. 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. But never would any so dishonour himself as to hand a fellow rogue over to the authorities. It just made me mad to the boiling point. “Julian, I don’t know how to put this. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. “How would you know?” Michelle’s interest was piqued.
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