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.