At last Guy softly went in.
She was still in the same place by the bed-side, but half lying on the bed, as I had seen her turn when I was shutting the door. Her arm was round her husband's neck; her face, pressed inwards to the pillow, was nestled close to his hair. They might have been asleep—both of them.
One of her children called her, but she neither answered nor stirred.
Guy lifted her up, very tenderly; his mother, who had no stay left but him—his mother—a widow—
No, thank God! she was not a widow now.