The day fireman went off and the night fireman came on.

I plugged away.
At half-past eight, famished, tottering, I washed up, changed my clothes, and dragged my weary body to the car.

It was three miles to where I lived, and I had received a pass with the stipulation that I could sit down as long as there were no paying passengers in need of a seat.

As I sank into a corner outside seat I prayed that no passenger might require my seat.

But the car filled up, and, half-way in, a woman came on board, and there was no seat for her.