His arm entered the round window of the white haze of her vision, his wrist spouting blood in currents, dripping on the stone floor. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a faint shudder stir her shoulders. Jack, who had been lingering near the group, now walked on. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain. Ruth Enschede, Hartford, Conn.
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