He called a waiter. I'm glad of it, I'm sure; for it's all owing to him his poor mother's here. Wait!" He released himself from his aunt's embrace, ran to the trunk and fetched the old coat. "God in Heaven!" he cried, "the floor is covered with blood. 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. “Broken-in people! I suppose the world is just all egotistical children and broken-in people. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. Her aunt had secretly sent on to Ann Veronica some new warm underclothing, a dozen pairs of stockings, and her last winter’s jacket, but the dear lady had overlooked those boots. And how can I get into one brief letter the complex accumulated desires of what is now, I find on reference to my diary, nearly sixteen months of letting my mind run on you— ever since that jolly party at Surbiton, where we raced and beat the other boat.
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