But from that day his conversations with Mrs. Elderfield grew more frequent, more intimate.  In the evening he occasionally made an excuse for knocking at her parlour door, and lingered for a talk which ended only at supper time.  He spoke of his own affairs, and grew more ready to do so as his hearer manifested a genuine interest, without impertinent curiosity.  Little by little he imparted to Mrs. Elderfield a complete knowledge of his commercial history, of his pecuniary standing—­matters of which he had never before spoken to a mere acquaintance.  A change was coming over him; the foundations of habit crumbled beneath his feet; he lost his look of complacence, his self-confident and superior tone.  Bar-parlours and billiard-rooms saw him but rarely and flittingly.  He seemed to have lost his pleasure in the streets of Islington, and spent all his spare time by the fireside, perpetually musing.

On a day in March one of his old landladies, Mrs. Higdon, sped to the house of another, Mrs. Evans, panting under a burden of strange news.  Could it be believed!  Mr. Jordan was going to marry—­to marry that woman in whose house he was living!  Mrs. Higdon had it on the very best authority—­that of Mr. Jordan’s partner, who spoke of the affair without reserve.  A new house had already been taken—­at Wood Green.  Well!  After all these years, after so many excellent opportunities, to marry a mere stranger and forsake Islington!  In a moment Mr. Jordan’s character was gone; had he figured in the police-court under some disgraceful charge, these landladies could hardly have felt more shocked and professed themselves more disgusted.  The intelligence spread.  Women went out of their way to have a sight of Mrs. Elderfield’s house; they hung about for a glimpse of that sinister person herself.  She had robbed them, every one, of a possible share in Islington’s prize lodger.  Had it been one of themselves they could have borne the chagrin; but a woman whom not one of them knew, an alien!  What base arts had she practised?  Ah, it was better not to inquire too closely into the secrets of that lodging-house.

Though every effort was made to learn the time and place of the ceremony, Mr. Jordan’s landladies had the mortification to hear of his wedding only when it was over.  Of course, this showed that he felt the disgracefulness of his behaviour; he was not utterly lost to shame.  It could only be hoped that he would not know the bitterness of repentance.

Not till he found himself actually living in the house at Wood Green did Mr. Jordan realize how little his own will had had to do with the recent course of events.  Certainly, he had made love to the widow, and had asked her to marry him; but from that point onward he seemed to have put himself entirely in Mrs. Elderfield’s hands, granting every request, meeting half-way every suggestion she offered, becoming, in short, quite a different kind of man from his former self.  He had not been sensible of a moment’s reluctance; he enjoyed the novel sense of yielding himself to affectionate guidance.  His wits had gone wool-gathering; they returned to him only after the short honeymoon at Brighton, when he stood upon his own hearth-rug, and looked round at the new furniture and ornaments which symbolized a new beginning of life.