It was locked.
"This ought to be put away," he said.
"I was coming up to get it when I heard the scream," whispered his companion.
"Perhaps you will take charge of it now," he said, placing it in her hands.

As he did so there flashed across his mind the cynical appropriateness of the old proverb about locking doors after stolen steeds.
There was a restraint and lack of spontaneity about their conversation of which both were acutely conscious.

The note was forced, as though from too great an effort to strike the right key.

A curious psychological change had swept over both since they stood together by the bedside of the dying woman.

It had come with the entry of death.
They conversed hurriedly and guardedly, as if they mistrusted each other.