He was not satisfied with his friends.

In the light of Mr Vladimir's philosophy of bomb throwing they appeared hopelessly futile.

The part of Mr Verloc in revolutionary politics having been to observe, he could not all at once, either in his own home or in larger assemblies, take the initiative of action.

He had to be cautious.

Moved by the just indignation of a man well over forty, menaced in what is dearest to him--his repose and his security--he asked himself scornfully what else could have been expected from such a lot, this Karl Yundt, this Michaelis--this Ossipon.
Pausing in his intention to turn off the gas burning in the middle of the shop, Mr Verloc descended into the abyss of moral reflections.