top at the nearest coffee-stall. I'm hungry. Then--Are you
frightfully sleepy?"

"Me? Oh, Lord, no."

"Then let's go off somewhere into the country." They went.

* * * * *

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."

"I wonder," she said dreamily, "if I shall _ever_ be able to stop
eating."

"You can't take me in. I know too much about it. You said you were going
to keep out of rows. You weren't going on that deputation because it
meant a row. You went because I asked you not to go."

"I did; and I should go again tomorrow for the same reason."

"But it isn't a reason. It's not as if I'd asked you to go against your
conscience. Your conscience hadn't anything to do with it."

"Oh, hadn't it! I went because you'd no right to ask me not to."

"If I'd had the right you'd have gone just the same."

"What do you mean by the right?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Of course I do. You mean, and you meant that if I'd married you you'd
have had the right, not just to ask me not to, but t