"Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. In a moment his grasp grew weaker. ‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. They turned the last corner, and almost immediately a man who had been standing there turned and struck Ennison a violent blow on the cheek. “Lucy, that’s horrible. \"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile.
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