He started awake at Annie's whispered, "Paul, Paul!" He saw his sister in her white nightdress, with her long plait of hair down her back, standing in the darkness.
"Yes ?" he whispered, sitting up.
"Come and look at her." He slipped out of bed.

A bud of gas was burning in the sick chamber.
His mother lay with her cheek on her hand, curled up as she had gone to sleep.

But her mouth had fallen open, and she breathed with great, hoarse breaths, like snoring, and there were long intervals between.
"She's going!" he whispered.
"Yes," said Annie.
"How long has she been like it ?" "I only just woke up." Annie huddled into the dressing-gown, Paul wrapped himself in a brown blanket.

It was three o'clock.

He mended the fire.