He hated Louie, he hated the boys who had cut and run, he loathed himself.

No!--religion was not for such as he.

No more canting--no more praying--away with it! He seemed to shake all the emotion of the last few weeks from him with scorn and haste, as he ran on, his strong young limbs battling with the wind.
Presently he emerged on the high road.

To the left, a hundred yards away, were the lights of a wayside inn; a farm waggon and a pair of horses standing with drooped and patient heads were drawn up on the cobbles in front of it.

David felt in his pockets.