"Ha? I don't know. Walk easy-don't give in to it, boy.... You're to be married?" "Not fitting. Do you believe in God?" "Hoy, don't talk so loud! You're drunk." "Yes.... Can you make up for a hurt when there's no way to turn back the clock?" "Now it don't do no good to cry. Come on. You can walk." "Of course I can walk. You don't understand. It can't be done, that's the answer. It happened. It happened in the wilderness. It's over. Goes away from you the way the spring goes and the summer too. You think I could cry when I saw my people killed? God damn it, if we wept for every sufficient reason we'd've all drowned long ago. What did you say, Lottie?" "Nothing, boy. Come on." "No, you said something about marrying. Did you not?" He lurched against her and gasped an apology for clumsiness. "That's not even been spoke of, I suppose I'm too young, but she--now pray understand, what _I_ don't understand is this: how a man could love a woman so much and nevertheless go and--go and----" He stopped, embarrassed, realizing that she was undoubtedly a whore, and therefore he could not, without unkindness--through intricate labor of thought he heard her remark: "You'll learn...." The street was a forest, a wilderness where Ben could feel the power of snow on branches suffering for the coming of spring, and in this jungle he was now marvelously ready for the act of love, and had no money. "Come along, love, come along. You live here in Boston?" "Nay, Roxbury." He watched the pale flame of reason surviving the onslaught of another wave. Was this forest under the sea? A wilderness not of snow-burdened hemlock but of oozing weed, monstrous, ancient. Here monsters lazily glided above dead ships and men unburied, a wilderness where no spring had ever dawned since the beginning of the world. "I don't know where he is, Lottie. The men from Hatfield buried all the dead they could find--later in the day, you understand, after the French were driven out, but I don't know where he lieth or my mother. I'll go back some day, but only if my brother wishes to go with me. Thou hast dove's eyes." "What?" "Thou art fair, my love." "You _are_ drunk. I'll see you to Newbury Street if you like--that's your way to Roxbury." "Most kind. Oh, I wish----" "You're drunk, and no money--remember? I'm good-natured too, but not that good-natured. Now see can you walk without my hand." "Of course I can," said Ben with resentment. "Was I not doing so when we met?"