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" "It is strange," replied Winifred, artlessly. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. And when Mr. 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 struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. ” “I am glad that you have a reasonable excuse for not having been to see me,” she said good-humouredly. There’s sure to be a place somewhere.
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