She stared. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. “Were you thinking of private apartments, a boarding-house or an hotel?” she asked. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She forgot her vital hatred of the South Seas; she forgot that McClintock's would not differ a jot from the old island she had for ever left behind her; she forgot all the doctor's lessons and warnings. Parbleu, but she was a fool. 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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This video was uploaded to pok-ddal23.live on 30-04-2024 07:15:09
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