"No, son."
"Is she dead?"
"No—no, son, I wish she were...."
"Then where is she gone? With whom?"
"Trebizond. Stamboul. Cairo. I don't know where."
"With whom?"
"With—oh, don't bother yourself, son. Forget her."
"With whom? I must know."
"With—do you remember that wrestler you crippled, the wrestler from Aleppo?"
"With Ahmet Ali! Impossible! I all but killed him."