Not for an instant did she falter in that drenched and impenetrable darkness.

There was something imperative in the clasp of her fingers, even though they tightened perceptibly when the thunder crashed.

They gave Kent the conviction that there was no doubt in her mind as to the point she was striving for.

He took advantage of the lightning, for each time it gave him a glimpse of her bare, wet head bowed to the storm, her white profile, and her slim figure fighting over the sticky earth under her feet.
It was this presence of her, and not the thought of escape, that exalted him now.

She was at his side.