He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. 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. " "Still, you forgot something. He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. If not, keep up your spirits.
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