Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. 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. Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. “It was a bad day for me,” he said, speaking slowly and painfully.
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