His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. 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. The brightness Capes had diffused over the world glorified even his rival.
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