Dora did not attempt to hide the feeling of joy and pride that involuntarily rose within her.
"Philip was always a good shot—he himself was not hurt?"
"No—you will allow me now to pronounce your husband's name, since you have used it yourself."
Dora frowned and bit her lips.
"At all events, the contract is torn up!" she cried. "God be praised! I paid dearly enough for that vile piece of paper—I have a right to rejoice that it no longer exists. Philip did well, he did well. And after that?"
"Why, that is all—ah, no, I was forgetting. Philip begged me to hand you this letter—and this packet."
Dora went pale; she put the packet aside, and was going to tear up the letter when Lorimer interrupted—
"What are you going to do?" said he. "Tear up this letter? You will do nothing of the kind: that letter is from Philip, from your husband."
"My dear Gerald, my husband no longer exists for me."
"Dora," rejoined Lorimer, "you are cruel. Your husband loves you, and is overwhelmed with sorrow."