From the opening chapter....

Mr. Gore was of middle height, thin, white-haired, and with a certain air of importance in his bearing that was the chief reason for his success in gaining the outward respect of the poor people. His arrogance should have been pitiable by general standards, because of the small justification he had for it, but no one in Gorestown saw it like that. Mr. Gore was wearing an ancient tweed suit. It was English tweed, bought in London on his last visit there fifteen years before. This set him apart from ordinary people just as much as did his name. Also, everyone was continuously aware of the fact that in all his land there were only five acres of bog, that he owned a fine stone house with a gate-lodge, that he had a plough and horses, and a reaper and binder for the harvest. He was well known to have a carpet on his bedroom floor. He had been married to a thin, faded gentlewoman from the neighbourhood, but she was dead many years. Her land had been added to his, and it had included a salmon river which was worth a fortune in itself.
"Station-master," said Mr. Gore, in a high, querulous tone, prancing a little on the balls of his feet with temper, "I'll report you for this. I'll report you to the Directors of the railway. You saw me coming. You signalled the train out. I told you to hold it. I'll report you for this!"
John looked at him with hatred, and said deliberately:
"Go to hell, you old bastard!"
In the ordinary course of events, Mr Gore might have recovered his reason when he had relieved his feelings by abusing the station-master. Unfortunately, however, John had accidentally hit on the one description of him which could not be borne. If John had called him a bully, a spy, a skin-the-goat, a gombeen man or any of the numerous terms of abuse which he might have used, it would not have been so disastrous.