Not until the tail-light of the last coach was receding like a great red firefly in the gloom did David get up.

Father Roland was on his feet, and down the track came two of the three lanterns on the run.
It was all unusually weird and strangely interesting to David.

He was breathing deeply.

There was a warmth in his body which was new to him.
It struck him all at once, as he heard Father Roland crunching through the snow, that he was experiencing an entirely new phase of life--a life he had read about at times and dreamed of at other times, but which he had never come physically in contact with.

The yapping of the foxes, the crying of the dogs, those lanterns hurrying down the track, the blackness of the night, and the strong perfume of balsam in the cold air--an odour that he breathed deep into his lungs like the fumes of an exhilarating drink--quickened sharply a pulse that a few hours before he thought was almost lifeless.