Falbe, he felt, wanted to know about him, regardless of the nature of his confessions.

Had he said that he was an undetected kleptomaniac, Falbe would have liked to know, have been pleased at any tidings, provided only they were authentic.

This seemed to reveal itself to him even as he spoke; it had been there waiting for him to claim it, lying there as in a poste restante, only ready for its owner.
At the end Falbe gave a long sigh.
"And why the devil didn't you give me any hint of it before ?" he asked.
"I didn't think it mattered," said Michael.
"Well, then, you are amazingly wrong.

Good Lord, it's about the most interesting thing I've ever heard.

I didn't know anybody could escape from that awful sort of prison-house in which our--I'm English now--in which our upper class immures itself.