She stole the opportunity to peer at his departing figure from the closed curtains of the front room window, his shoulders slumped forward, his posture and his ego slightly deflated. "You are all right?"—anxiously. “Annabel, I begin to see why you are here. Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. 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. She was new, unlike any other woman he had met in all his wide travel. Someone ought to be with him until the doctor arrives. \"Thanks for coming.
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