They pulled up in a green lane near Totteridge to finish the buns they had brought with them from the coffee-stall.
"Did you ever smell anything like this lane? Did you ever eat anything like these buns? Did you ever drink anything like that divine coffee? If epicures had any imagination they'd go out and obstruct policemen and get put in prison for the sake of the sensations they'd have afterwards."
"That reminds me," he said, "that I want to talk to you. No--but seriously."
"I don't mind how seriously you talk if I may go on eating."
"That's what I brought the buns for. So that I mayn't be interrupted. First of all I want to tell you that you haven't taken me in. Other people may be impressed with this Holloway business, but not me. I'm not moved, or touched, or even interested."
"Still," she murmured, "you did get up at three o'clock in the morning."
"If you think I got up at three o'clock in the morning to show my sympathy, you're mistaken."
"Sympathy? I don't need your sympathy. It was worth it, Frank. There isn't anything on earth like coming out of prison. Unless it is going in."
"That won't work, Dorothy, when I know why you went in. It wasn't to prove your principles. Your principles were against that sort of thing. It wasn't to get votes for women. You know as well as I do that you'll never get them that way. It wasn't to annoy Mr. Asquith. You knew Mr. Asquith wouldn't care a hang. It was to annoy me."