"Is it-"
"Time?" Bull asked. "Oh, ayuh, Stella, I guess so. But it don't hurt.
At least, I never heard so. All that's before."
She burst into tears suddenly-all the tears she had never wept-
and put her hand in Bull's hand. "Yes," she said, "yes I will, yes I did,
yes I do."
They stood in a circle in the storm, the dead of Goat Island, and
the wind screamed around them, driving its packet of snow, and
some kind of song burst from her. It went up into the wind and the
wind carried it away. They all sang then, as children will sing in their
high, sweet voices as a summer evening draws down to summer
night. They sang, and Stella felt herself going to them and with them,
finally across the Reach. There was a bit of pain, but not much; losing
her maidenhead had been worse. They stood in a circle in the night.
The snow blew around them and they sang. They sang, and-