There was a gulf of eight years between her and the youngest of her brace of sisters—an impassable gulf inhabited chaotically by two noisy brothers. “I won’t pretend,” he said, “that this is an accident. ” Her hands fell to her side. His glasses were gone. Nobody who cared. He’s terrible!” “Dad!” Lucy smiled at John. 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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