You see, you can't turn the catch!" She indeed held the lock fast.

It was a firm hand, yet soft--their fingers had touched over the handle--and looked white in the moonlight.
He made no reply, but sank back again in his seat with a singular sensation in the fingers that had touched hers.

He was in the shadow, and, without being seen, could abandon his reserve and glance at her face.

It struck him that he had never really seen her before.

She was not so tall as she had appeared to be.