The next morning she went out with her post-office savings bank-book, and telegraphed for a warrant to draw out all the money she had in the world. One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. I am no one, Gérard. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. ’ Gerald tutted. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ‘That is good.
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