He need not have done so, for the couple vanished instantly in deep disgust at being robbed of their retreat between the piles.
Alice was nearing the completion of pastry when he returned in the dusk; he smelt the delicious proof.

Creeping quietly upstairs, he deposited his brushes in an empty attic at the top of the house.

Then he washed his hands with especial care to remove all odour of paint.

And at dinner he endeavoured to put on the mien of innocence.
She was cheerful, but it was the cheerfulness of determined effort.

They naturally talked of the situation.