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Opposite him, the colonel has been rummaging through the expansive pockets of his summer sports jacket and has produced two cuboid objects. He has taken one item from each and deliberately destroyed one of these by fire, transmitting the fire to the second, cylindrical item in the process. It is the colonel’s enthusiastic exhalation of the smoke from this second fire, in the direction of nostrils made especially sensitive to accept the unique flavour of summer that has caused the young man to cough. The young man opens his eyes in disgust. The smokeless sanctuary "Can’t help that," the colonel says and, after punctuating what would have been one short sentence with a healthy, phlegm-filled cough, continues, "a man’s got to have his morning smoke, hasn’t he?" |
of a summer-scented breeze has been defiled by a man who
has either lost the ability to enjoy the unique, refreshing air, or is
just too fatigued with life to care. The young man reacts with an act
of bravado, though not the one mentioned in passing earlier. "Excuse
me," he dares, and, heart beating fast, continues, "this is
a no-smoking carriage."|
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