At least, I could keep clear of the hateful image of Major Chevenix.

Accordingly I burst at once on the narrative of my adventures.

It was the same as you have read, but briefer, and told with a very different purpose.

Now every incident had a particular bearing, every by-way branched off to Rome--and that was Flora.
When I had begun to speak I had kneeled upon the gravel withoutside the low window, rested my arms upon the sill, and lowered my voice to the most confidential whisper.

Flora herself must kneel upon the other side, and this brought our heads upon a level with only the bars between us.
So placed, so separated, it seemed that our proximity, and the continuous and low sounds of my pleading voice, worked progressively and powerfully on her heart, and perhaps not less so on my own.