Again Claude’s instinct, not his reason, prompted him and not amiss. It only told him he was sorry for Jim, and could a little reassure him over this.
“But she didn’t know we were playing for money,” said he quickly. “In fact, I told her we were not.”
“So it’s twice that you have spared me. Her, rather,” said Jim.
Claude accepted the correction. It was an obvious one to him no less than to Jim.
“Yes: she’d have been awfully cut up if she had known,” he said simply.
Jim got up.
“I wonder if you can believe I am sorry?” he said. “I am. My God, I’ve touched bottom now.”
“Why, yes, of course I believe it,” said Claude. “It’s broken you up, I can see that. Fellows don’t break unless they are sorry. But as for the thing itself, if you don’t mind my saying it, I think all cheating is touching bottom. It’s a rotten game. You know that now, though. And if you can believe me, I’m awfully sorry too. It’s a wretched thing to happen. But I’m so glad you told me: it makes an awful difference, that.”
Jim was silent a moment.
“I want to ask you something,” he said at length. “When did you first suspect me? Was it when I came in and found you here on Saturday?”