It was hard to meet that gaze. "Now, give me the woollen cloth to tie round my fetters," whispered Sheppard. “That’s suicidal bullshit, Lucy. As to Jack Sheppard, he appeared utterly reckless and insensible, and did nothing but whistle and sing the whole way. Into one of these he waded and rolled and rolled, despite her commands. ‘Aye, sir. 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. “I might go home, I don’t know. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. The weather's been foul enough for the last fortnight, but I've never turned my back upon it.
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