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. Before you know where you are you find yourself in a complication. \"I'll have to call and tell Cathy. ’ ‘Take care,’ warned Hilary, his eyes on his improvised bandage. She pulled him down by his lapels and arched her head readily towards his neck. It was in her eyes—the big thing that comes but once. ’ ‘Tchah! Better a doubtful welcome here than a confounded French convent. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone.
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