He agreed to this arrangement as the most seemly, and together they concocted the letter which Mr. Dingle would receive by post on the morning of Medora’s disappearance. She invited Jordan to assist her in this composition, but was sorry afterwards that she had done so, for her lover differed from her on certain particulars and deprecated the writing of several things that she desired to write. They planned the communication in the secrecy of the Priory ruin on a Sunday afternoon, and it was some time before the man had produced a clean draft for Medora to take away and copy. She wished to insert a demand, couched somewhat insolently, that Mr. Dingle would divorce his wife as swiftly as possible; but Kellock forbade this, because he felt that advice to Ned under such circumstances was undignified and altogether improper. “You can’t do that,” he said. “You must be reasonable and take it in a high-minded way. It’s for you to tell him what you’re going to do and the reason; but it ain’t for you to tell him what he’s got to do. You can safely leave that to him. You see in these cases, when they get in the papers, that a man and woman always go to an hotel together; and when that’s proved, the other man divorces her as a matter of course. That’s all there is to it.” At other points also he declined to support Medora’s wishes. She had designed some rather flagrant sentiments for this letter and felt that her action needed them. It was to be the letter of her life and, as she said, it had become her first wish to make Dingle feel what he had made her feel. But Kellock was calm and collected upon the subject, and finding composition of the letter awakened very considerably passion in Medora, he begged her to let him draft it and accept his idea of what such a document should be. “It may be read in open Court some day,” he said—a possibility that cheered her. She agreed therefore and hid her disappointment at what she regarded as a very colourless indictment. Jordan’s idea was something as lifeless as a lawyer’s letter, but equally crushing in its cold and remorseless statement of fact. Not a shadow of emotion marked it. There was nothing but the statement that finding she failed to please or satisfy her husband, and knowing their continued union could only destroy their happiness and self-control and self-respect, therefore—for both their sakes—Medora had decided to leave Ned and cast in her lot with Jordan Kellock, who was willing and anxious to make her his wife. Neither anger nor sorrow appeared in this communication as it left Kellock’s hands. She took the letter and thanked him gratefully for helping her. Then they tore up into very tiny fragments the various attempts before the finished article and so parted—not to meet again until they met for ever.