now.”

    t from t  I didn’t  to leave. Smelling t and glue, I stood still for a moment. I could also smell coffee.

    “Yet does illustrating in a ne poor gilder despite t t yle. I’m not even certain  rating a commemorative story in verse, a Book of Festivities, for Our Sultan by order of tor Master Osman. Eacurists  er Osman,  ts  you to go t t is, turists,   or Master Osman gave tterfly,“ ”Olive,“ ”Stork‘…You’re also to go and observe tead of airs, I spun around. t room -in closet  in.

    Inside t my moto see me.

    Sood .

    “here have you been?” she asked.

    But s ts door aircase—if, of course, his bedroom door were open.

    “I  are you doing in here?”

    “Didn’t I tell you t your grandfat and t you  to bot not very loud, because s  t to  er voice.

    “ted. Not s tened.”

    “In w manner was ed?”

    I dropped to tated t: “I’m a very serious man noening to my grandfat eyebroening to ted. I’m nodding my ime no guest.”

    “Go doairs,” my mot once.”

    S doing on a small piece of paper on ting board saken up.

    “Mot are you ing?”

    “Be quick, no I tell you to go doairs and call for hayriye?”

    I  doo tc,  for t.

    “traitor,” my brot  off and left me er. I did all the bindings myself. My fingers are bruised purple.”

    “s to see you.”

    “o give you sucing,” my brotreachery.”

    , my brotood and came after me teningly, even before  get aime.  t and began ting it.

    “Stop, S, don’t, you’re i