“I’m all right,” said he.
“But what is it?” asked Dora again, vaguely frightened.
Jim leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees, propping his head on his hands. This was worse than the telling of Claude had been, but it had to be done. He had promised some humble, sorry little denizen within him that he would do it.
“Did Claude speak to you about a cheque,” he asked, “which he could not remember drawing?”
“Yes, and then afterward he said it was all right,” said she.
“Then I’ve got to tell you,” he said.
Then her fear seized her again in full force.
“Don’t, Jim,” she cried, “don’t tell me there’s anything wrong.”
“It’s no use beating about,” he said. “I forged that cheque and cashed it. Claude knows; I told him.”
Dora sat still a moment. Then she put her hands up to her head.