“How perfectly terrible!” she said.
“What?”
“For a girl to be strangled that way.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Probably some sex maniac,” she said, and shivered. “I hate to think of things like that.”
I took a cigarette case from my pocket. “Want one?”
“Please.”
She took a cigarette, guided my hand with the tips of her fingers as I held the match. Then I lit up one of my own and walked over, to stand looking out of the window.
Abruptly I turned around.
She had opened the paper to the sporting page and was studying the racing news.