Her lips were apart, but no breath seemed to issue from them; and, but for a slight—very slight palpitation of the bosom, the vital principle might be supposed to be extinct. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. 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. Austin. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.
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