” “Think not,” that young man remarked laconically. “You are wrong! I did not think you thought such things. But I have two hundred thousand pounds. “I really do not believe,” he announced with satisfaction, “that any one would recognize me. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I was ready to wager that your name would have marched with one of them. She had nothing to say for herself. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. It would be the culmination of her plan. 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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