" Mr. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them. F. She met his eyes for a moment, and could not interpret their expression. There was absolute quiet. My last foster father in Alabama before the Becks was a heavy drug abuser. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. 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.
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