” Diane’s voice resonated up the stairs. 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. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Unconscious that his movements were watched, Shotbolt, meanwhile, hastened towards Wych Street. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. But Jonathan was not to be deterred. ” Dessert was served.
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