He was afraid of being too curt with her lest she should turn on him and tell him that pretence was useless--she knew he was Priam Farll.

He felt guilty, and he felt that he looked guilty.

As he hurried along the High Street towards the river with the paint-box it appeared to him that policemen observed him inimically and cocked their helmets at him, as who should say: "See here; this won't do.

You're supposed to be in Westminster Abbey.

You'll be locked up if you're too brazen." The tide was out.