"She is a good woman.

She takes good care of me." I felt that it would be unkind to press him further and turned to go.
"Would you like to send any word to your folks or to grandmother and the old Squire ?" I asked.
"Better not," said he with a kind of solemn sullenness.

"I am out of all that.

I'm the same's dead." I could see that he wished it so.

He had not really and in so many words acknowledged his identity; but when I turned to go he followed me to the log fence round the garden and as I got over grasped my hand and held on for the longest time! I thought he would never let go.