" "Ah! Sometimes I wonder I don't run amok and kill someone," said the Wastrel, in broken English. ‘As for you—’ ‘Do not address me. Wood scarcely knew where he was. Only think how compromising. Given time and the right environment, and he would outgrow these defects. 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. Not if I read her aright. " Sheppard said nothing, but a disdainful smile curled his lips.
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