He had been stopped twice on the road for not-exceeding the limit as he believed, and was still a little ruffled.

Was it not his invariable principle to be moderate in speed as in all other things?
And his feeling at the moment was stronger even than usual, that the country was in a bad way, eaten up by officialism, with its absurd limitations of speed and the liberty of the subject, and the advanced ideas of these new writers and intellectuals, always talking about the rights and sufferings of the poor.

There was no progress along either of those roads.

He had it in his heart, as he stood there on the pavement, to say something pretty definite to John about interference with the liberty of the subject, and he wouldn't mind giving old Felix a rap about his precious destructive doctrines, and continual girding at the upper classes, vested interests, and all the rest of it.

If he had something to put in their place that would be another matter.