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. "So you did," replied the prize-fighter. He knew it absolutely, as if he had the check in his hand. She hated to leave; for this hour would be the most interesting. She cried out in pain, then in pleasure as he thrust himself into her.
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