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Sir Robert was watching the pair curiously: noting the feverish gladness with which the boy clung to Rhoda's hand, and the tenderness with which she, in return, bent over him.
It cost him a sharp pang to think that this was just the sort of way in which he should have liked his wife to bend over their invalid son. There was a motherly kindness in Rhoda's every look and touch, as she smoothed the boy's pillow or smiled at him, that realised completely Sir Robert's ideal of what a mother ought to be to her child.