The train stopped, and there was a fierce squeezing and struggling at the doors. A man behind John remembered suddenly that he wanted to get out, and began with much heaving and imprecation to hew a passage, treading violently on John’s ankle. But by now there were more people surging inwards, clinging precariously to the fringe of the mob. The train rushed on, and the man was left within it, cursing feebly. John felt glad, maliciously, ridiculously glad. But when he looked again at the sedentary gross men, the placid labourers, and at the short, pale women swaying in the centre he became righteously furious with the evil manners of the men. He felt that he would like to address them, curse them about it⁠—that fat one with the insolent leer and the cap all cock-eye, especially; he would say loudly at the next station, “Why don’t you give one of these ladies your seat?” Then the man would have to get up, would stand shamed before the world, while some grateful female⁠—that nurse there⁠—took his seat. Perhaps all the others would follow.