Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. Then he sat down again in a chair and said that people who wrote novels ought to be strung up. Sheppard, paralysed by the threat. 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 wants to be free—she wants to be legally and economically free, so as not to be subject to the wrong man; but only God, who made the world, can alter things to prevent her being slave to the right one.
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