The shock almost flung him off his feet.

Even then she did not raise her head.
A second time he returned to the smoking compartment.
Father Roland was no longer huddled down in his corner.

He was on his feet, his hands thrust deep down into his trousers pockets, and he was whistling softly as David came in.

His hat lay on the seat.

It was the first time David had seen his round, rugged, weather-reddened face without the big Stetson.