She had eaten them, murdered them routinely, and yet he loved her still. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. Gül, lavanta ve diğer çiçeklerin muhteşem kokularını yakaladı. She could not move. 272 < 34 > EPILOGUE She paced the Manhattan neighborhood, her backpack swinging, marveling at the austere buildings gleaming silver in their starkness. \" His tone was weak and conciliatory.
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