1. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. ‘Odd sort of a nun. 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. “I didn’t understand, Vee. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock.
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