Sons never grow up, they are always our babies; they come to us with their heartaches, at three or at thirty; there is ever one door open in the storm, the mother's heart.

If she loves my boy, nothing shall be too good for her." "I feel reasonably sure that she does." Did she?
he wondered.

Did she love Jack as he (Warrington) wanted some day to be loved?
"As you say," the mother went on, "how can she help loving him?
He is a handsome boy; and this alone is enough to attract women.

But he is so kind and gentle, Richard; so manly and strong.

He has his faults; he is human, like his mother.