"What is it you are after yourself ?" "A perfect detonator," was the peremptory answer.

"What are you making that face for?
You see, you can't even bear the mention of something conclusive." "I am not making a face," growled the annoyed Ossipon bearishly.
"You revolutionists," the other continued, with leisurely self-confidence, "are the slaves of the social convention, which is afraid of you; slaves of it as much as the very police that stands up in the defence of that convention.

Clearly you are, since you want to revolutionise it.

It governs your thought, of course, and your action too, and thus neither your thought nor your action can ever be conclusive." He paused, tranquil, with that air of close, endless silence, then almost immediately went on.

"You are not a bit better than the forces arrayed against you--than the police, for instance.