"Hundreds."
"Hundreds?"
He hesitated, and then,
"Thousands," he said, tearing the word from him.
"How many thousands?" she asked, when she could find the courage.
Again he cowered before the truth. She grew impatient.
"Tell me!" she commanded. "Don't be a coward." He winced. "Sit up and face this thing and tell me. How many thousands have you stolen?"
She said it in a hard, cold voice. He suddenly looked up, his eyes flashed an instant. He saw his sister sitting there, her hands held calmly in her lap, her head inclined a little, her chin thrust out, her lips tightly compressed, and he could not meet her; he collapsed again, and she heard him say pitifully, "Don't use that word." Then he began to weep, and as he sobbed, he repeated:
"Oh, they'll send me to the penitentiary--the penitentiary--the penitentiary!"
The word struck Elizabeth; her gray eyes began to fill.