The managing editor smiled in his whimsical way. “My reputation has long been in tatters. A little more can't hurt it.”
James conceded a reflective assent with a manner of impartiality. “Of course your friends wouldn't think any the less of you. They're not so—so—”
“respectable as yours,” Jeff finished for him.
“I was going to say so hidebound.”
“All the same, isn't it?”
“But it would be a sacrifice for you. I recognize that. And I'm not sure that I could accept it. I will have to think that over,” the lawyer concluded magnanimously.
“You'll find it is best. But I think I would tell Miss Frome, even if I didn't tell anybody else. She has a right to know.”
“You may depend upon me to do whatever is best about that.”
James was hardly out of the office before Captain Chunn blew in like a small tornado. He was boiling with rage.
“What's this infernal lie about you being the son of a convict, David?” he demanded, waving a copy of the Herald.