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. Already she had sent him twenty pounds, and never written to explain to him why it was she had not sent it back sharply directly he returned it. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. “What made you think” he said, abruptly, with the gleam of avidity in his face, “that love makes people happy?” “I know it must. ” She had forged birth certificates dating back to before anyone in the building had been born. " "Very well, sir.
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