Just a friendly polite suggestion. “My word holds,” she said. She padded up the stairs to the bedroom, finding that her sheets had been changed with a fresh pillow case to welcome her weary head. With this she now entered. 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. “It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry.
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