155 The ringing doorbell jarred her from her stupor. Well, that’s the situation. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. Perhaps he had had money in the coat, back in Hong-Kong, and had been robbed without knowing it. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. \"What about scholarships?\" \"Can't get 'em if your parents are rich. "I am glad you think that," she replied. Melusine tilted her head to catch sight of her neck, and froze, staring at the image. 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. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. This accident rather confirms than checks my purpose. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.
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