He looked up at her as he spoke, and in his eyes was the quiet of love and death.
"My mother died an hour ago," he said.

"I was with her, and as I had longed might happen, she came back to me before she died.

For two or three minutes she was herself.

And then she said to me, 'My son,' and soon she ceased breathing." "Oh, Michael," she said, and for a little while there was silence, and in turn it was her presence that he clung to.

Presently he spoke again.
"Sylvia, I'm so frightfully hungry," he said.