"Shall I help you on with it, Sir?" replied the Jew, becoming suddenly respectful. One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. 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.
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