Lucy felt the hairs on her neck rise. 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. He was an imaginative young man. "The Captain's in such a desperate hurry, that there's no time for love-making. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this: —I've taken a fancy to your bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs. But when they were on their way out he whispered in Anna’s ear. "Damnation!" cried Kneebone. But anything is better than this.
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