Then a crowd gathered, each asking the other what had happened, each amazed at the other's ignorance.
The excitement seemed to penetrate the houses opposite.

Heads were thrust out of windows, doors were opened, and a stream of men and women, wearing whatever they could find in the dark, shuffled across the footpath.
Some still fumbled at their braces; others, draped like Greek statues, held their garments on with both hands.

A coarse jest passed round when a tall, bony woman came up, a man's overcoat, thrown over her shoulders, barely covering her nightdress.

They stood shivering in the cold air, greedy to hear what sensation had come to their very doors.
"It's only a drunken man." "They say 'e was knocked down in a fight." "No; the Push stoushed 'im, an' then cleared." Someone struck a match and looked at his face; it was smeared with blood.

Then the crowd rendered "first aid" in the street fashion.
"Wot's yer name?
W'ere d'yer live?
'Ow did it 'appen ?" And at each question they shook him vigorously, impatient at his silence.