He thought of his days in the gray prison, and of this girlish voice singing like an angel to comfort him.

She did not seem to be singing to him now.

She sang as a bird sings out of abounding health and happiness, and as she sang, the mountains retreated into vast distances.

The rush of the cattle on the drive was fainter than the sigh of the wind, and the fluting of the Ute lover was of another world.

For the moment he felt the majesty and the irrevocableness of human life.
He stood in a shadowed corner at the close of the service and watched her come down the aisle.