We closed the door. We all sat on the stairs outside; it might have been for minutes, it might have been for hours. Within or without--no one spoke--nothing stirred.
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.