“Why do you let her give you heartache?” she asked. Mon Dieu, why not? I looked in time to see Jean-Claude give that all-purpose Gallic shrug, which meant everything and nothing. I sniffed the air before I could think, and the car was a playground of scents; the sweet musk of wolf, the clean vanilla of Nathaniel, and Caleb. and finally I just stood up and screamed, ‘What the hell are you mumbling? What the hell doyou want from me? Can’t
239 Rationality is the first thing to go. She is le sourdre de sang, the fountainhead of our bloodline. We all scattered. e years, Harlan has garnered an undeserved reputation for depicting females from achauvinistic, unsympathetic viewpoint.
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