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320 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2001
Frobisher Bay and the hills were draped in the moonlight's white silk. The landscape was frozen into white curves and sensual whorls. The bay, in the moonlight in spring, was a plausible setting for a perpetual afterlife cool and spare, economically lit, everything so finely tuned that you heard, or thought you heard, the flapping of a bird's wings as it flew by, and heard the bird's breath.
He was Father Hall, as he described himself; they were his children and he wished them to obey him. They had fed, clothed, and housed him, yet he considered them the dependents.