She fled. "Look quick, d—n you, or we shall never master him!" "Murder!" shrieked Mrs. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. 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. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose.
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