" "Alas! that one so highly born should submit to such a degradation?" groaned the knight. That had shut him up for a while. She drew her naked arms around herself. There was little fighting spirit here. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. Men in this part of the world drink to forget the things they have lost. He had not to wait long. May I be permitted, as a very old and very dear friend of your lamented parent, whose loss I shall ever deplore, to ask you one question?" "Undoubtedly," replied Winifred. She’d have thrown this thing if you hadn’t stopped her. 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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