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. I don’t know. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. " "You're a noble-hearted little fellow, Thames," rejoined Wood, casting a look of pride and affection at his adopted son, whose head he gently patted; "and give promise of a glorious manhood. In a moment they were in the street outside. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. And the balcony and ‘My Romeo!’” “Shakespeare is altogether different from the modern stuff. There’s the internal factor as well as the external.
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