The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. "Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. Wood, in equal trepidation. “But, of course, she may have come from one of the other flats. ” John peered at her as she went to him. And Mother trusted him. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. “You would have been treated differently in the Old World, the one where I came from. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. Why would your mother be so impatient?” Lucy speculated.
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