Such was the simple code that displayed itself in all his thoughts. He let go of the girl’s arm. She sat, crouched together, by the corner of the hearthrug under the bookcase that supported the pig’s skull, and looked into the fire and up at Ann Veronica’s face, and let herself go. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack.
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