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.

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.