Leaning over, he snatches that low to middle tar tobacco, snatches it and stamps it out underfoot.

"Who the bally hell do you think you are!" the colonel splutters, after an astonished silence.

"Just a member of the public reminding you of the regulations operating in this carriage. However, as you show little or no inclination to follow those regulations, I have kindly decided to save you from a financial reversal as indicated by the maximum fine notice above your head."

The bare-shouldered blonde bursts into unrestrained laughter, the mysterious beauty giggles (a sound worth more to the young man than the weight of her youthfully contoured woman’s shape in gold ingots). "My hero!" she laughs light-heartedly and smiles at him, again with that intangible closeness, a dazzling, dizzying, friendly smile which he has no other thought but to return in his shy, appealing manner.

Opposite, a disgusted colonel mutters into the now all-pervading summer scent of the newly-mown grass, about young whelps, respect and National Service.

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