The admirable landlady had shown herself energetic, clear-headed, and full of resource; it was she who chose the house, and transacted all the business in connection with it; Mr. Jordan had merely run about in her company from place to place, smiling approval and signing cheques.  No one could have gone to work more prudently, or obtained what she wanted at smaller outlay; for all that, Mr. Jordan, having recovered something like his normal frame of mind, viewed the results with consternation.  Left to himself, he would have taken a very small house, and furnished it much in the style of Islington lodgings; as it was, he occupied a ten-roomed ‘villa’, with appointments which seemed to him luxurious, aristocratic.  True, the expenditure was of no moment to a man in his position, and there was no fear that Mrs. Jordan would involve him in dangerous extravagance; but he had always lived with such excessive economy that the sudden change to a life correspondent with his income could not but make him uncomfortable.

Mrs. Jordan had, of course, seen to it that her personal appearance harmonized with the new surroundings.  She dressed herself and her young daughter with careful appropriateness.  There was no display, no purchase of gewgaws—­merely garments of good quality, such as became people in easy circumstances.  She impressed upon her husband that this was nothing more than a return to the habits of her earlier life.  Her first marriage had been a sad mistake; it had brought her down in the world.  Now she felt restored to her natural position.

After a week of restlessness, Mr. Jordan resumed his daily visits to the shop in Upper Street, where he sat as usual among the books and the correspondence, and tried to assure himself that all would henceforth be well with him.  No more changing from house to house; a really comfortable home in which to spend the rest of his days; a kind and most capable wife to look after all his needs, to humour all his little habits.  He could not have taken a wiser step.

For all that, he had lost something, though he did not yet understand what it was.  The first perception of a change not for the better flashed upon him one evening in the second week, when he came home an hour later than his wont.  Mrs. Jordan, who always stood waiting for him at the window, had no smile as he entered.

‘Why are you late?’ she asked, in her clear, restrained voice.

‘Oh—­something or other kept me.’

This would not do.  Mrs. Jordan quietly insisted on a full explanation of the delay, and it seemed to her unsatisfactory.

‘I hope you won’t be irregular in your habits, Archibald,’ said his wife, with gentle admonition.  ’What I always liked in you was your methodical way of living.  I shall be very uncomfortable if I never know when to expect you.’

‘Yes, my dear, but—­business, you see—­’

’But you have explained that you could have been back at the usual time.’