He went off to business without seeing his wife again, and passed a lamentable day.  At his ordinary hour of return, instead of setting off homeward, he strayed about the by-streets of Islington and Pentonville.  Not till this moment had he felt how dear they were to him, the familiar streets; their very odours fell sweet upon his nostrils.  Never again could he go hither and thither, among the old friends, the old places, to his heart’s content.  What had possessed him to abandon this precious liberty!  The thought of Wood Green revolted him; live there as long as he might, he would never be at home.  He thought of his wife (now waiting for him) with fear, and then with a reaction of rage.  Let her wait!  He—­Archibald Jordan—­before whom women had bowed and trembled for five-and-twenty years—­was he to come and go at a wife’s bidding?  And at length the thought seemed so utterly preposterous that he sped northward as fast as possible, determined to right himself this very evening.

Mrs. Jordan sat alone.  He marched into the room with muddy boots, flung his hat and overcoat into a chair, and poked the fire violently.  His wife’s eye was fixed on him, and she first spoke—­in the quiet voice that he dreaded.

‘What do you mean by carrying on like this, Archibald?’

‘I shall carry on as I like in my own house—­hear that?’

’I do hear it, and I’m very sorry too.  It gives me a very bad opinion of you.  You will not do as you like in your own house.  Rage as you please.  You will not do as you like in your own house.’

There was a contemptuous anger in her eye which the man could not face.  He lost all control of himself, uttered coarse oaths, and stood quivering.  Then the woman began to lecture him; she talked steadily, acrimoniously, for more than an hour, regardless of his interruptions.  Nervously exhausted, he fled at length from the room.  A couple of hours later they met again in the nuptial chamber, and again Mrs. Jordan began to talk.  Her point, as before, was that he had begun married life about as badly as possible.  Why had he married her at all?  What fault had she committed to incur such outrageous usage?  But, thank goodness, she had a will of her own, and a proper self-respect; behave as he might, she would still persevere in the path of womanly duty.  If he thought to make her life unbearable he would find his mistake; she simply should not heed him; perhaps he would return to his senses before long—­and in this vein Mrs. Jordan continued until night was at odds with morning, only becoming silent when her partner had sunk into the oblivion of uttermost fatigue.

The next day Mr. Jordan’s demeanour showed him, for the moment at all events, defeated.  He made no attempt to read at breakfast; he moved about very quietly.  And in the afternoon he came home at the regulation hour.