'...Most of all he hated the big bosoms. He took them up and he brought them down, load after load of self-satisfied big bosoms. They puffed scent and powder at him, the smell of armpits and rubber corsets, and a smell like candles he could not identify. Another thing, they moved slowly, they paused half in, half out, of the lift, they stood in the middle and wouldn't let people in or out, they took their time. He spent all the time shoving big bosoms along, which was hard work because, of course, he must not ever on any account touch a passenger. They didn't mind touching him. They lolloped against him, nudged him with parcels, trod unconcerned on his feet. His brain was hard and tumescent with prolonged exasperation.'
from Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by M. Barnard Eldershaw (Part II)
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