Suppose, for illustration, one goes with a request to some person in authority, and meets a curt refusal. The first feeling is doubtless one of blind, unthinking anger at the rebuff. Immediately after that the mind busies itself more deeply with the matter, imagining motives, ascribing feelings and the like; and anger takes a more bitter and personal form, it rankles where at first it only stung. But if one is a fairly reasonable man, accustomed to refer things to standards of right, one presently grows calmer and, continuing the imaginative process in a broader way, endeavors to put himself at the other person’s point of view and see what justification, if any, there is for the latter’s conduct. Possibly he is one subject to constant solicitation, with whom coldness and abruptness are necessary to the despatch of business—and so on. If the explanation seems insufficient, so that his rudeness still appears to be mere insolence, our resentment against him lasts, reappearing whenever we think of him, so that we are likely to thwart him somehow if we get a chance, and justify our action to ourselves and others on grounds of moral disapproval. Or suppose one has to stand in line at the postoffice, with a crowd of other people, waiting to get his mail. There are delay and discomfort to be borne; but these he will take with composure because he sees that they are a part of the necessary conditions of the situation, which all must submit to alike. Suppose, however, that while patiently waiting his turn he notices someone else, who has come in later, edging into the line ahead of him. Then he will certainly be angry. The delay threatened is only a matter of a few seconds; but here is a question of justice, a case for indignation, a chance for anger to come forth with the sanction of thought.