" And he raised it in his arms. "My mother!—my poor mother!" ejaculated Thames, falling on his knees, and bursting into tears. You'd not know what to do without me, and shan't drive me off. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. You did not see me, I know. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. Entranced, he stared at the name. "An audience might have frightened the birds. At every step he seemed to be haunted by the ghost of the past. After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage.
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