Their mother died when Alice was seven and Paul four. With no other family, they were swallowed by New York’s social services. The state-run orphanages were long bleak halls full of bitter bullies. Alice learned fast that deference was no deterrent; once singled out, they would forever hound you. She was creamed in stand-up fights—her agility no match for brute strength—so she had launched an insurgency. Anyone who picked on her, or worse, her baby brother, were dealt with when no one was looking. She shielded Paul as best she could, and he grew up immune from the worst. She had thought it was the right thing, but it meant he was ill-prepared for the streets.