She was a stranger and was dressed in a travelling-suit.

Gordon gazed at her without moving or uttering a sound.

She came in and closed the door gently behind her, and then walked softly over to the side of the bed and looked down at him with kind eyes.

She was not exactly pretty, but to Gordon she appeared beautiful, and he knew that she was a friend.

Suddenly she dropped down on her knees beside him and put her arm over him caressingly.
"I am Norman's mother," she said, "and I have come to look after you and to take you home with me if they will let me have you." She stooped over and kissed him.
The boy put up his pinched face and kissed her.
"I will go," he said in his weak voice.
She kissed him again, and smiled down at him with moist eyes, and talked to him in tender tones, stroking his hair and telling him of Norman's sorrow for the trouble, of her own unhappiness, and of her regret that the doctors would not let him be moved.