” Missy grunted in neither Lucy’s nor Michelle’s direction. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. " "Well, that's fine. She walked down the station approach, past the neat, obtrusive offices of the coal merchant and the house agent, and so to the wicket-gate by the butcher’s shop that led to the field path to her home. 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. Angelina's distress over these mischances was pathetic. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. "A miserly old woman.
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