When I went in I could see, when she got up from her chair, that she was weak, and looked as if she'd been ill.

She looked ever so much older, and her hair was a lot grayer than it used to be.
She held out her arms and clung round my neck as if I'd been raised from the dead.

So I was in a kind of a way.

But she didn't say much, or ask what I was going to do next.

Poor soul! she knew it couldn't be much good anyway; and that if we were hunted before, we'd be worse hunted now.