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.