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. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. There are many things which I do not understand. But no more of that. ” “I’m delighted,” she exclaimed. To recreate the era, I deliberately tried to avoid creating a thinly disguised bodice ripper where an “empowered” woman mouthed off to prospective suitors in jerkins and tights, in other words, a typical romance novel. "It is past," said Jack, placing his finger on the trigger. Howard Taber. ‘Didn’t mean it, love.
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