"All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less. William Kneebone was a woollen-draper of "credit and renown," whose place of business was held at the sign of the Angel (for, in those days, every shop had its sign), opposite Saint Clement's church in the Strand. All her protests seemed stifled before she could find words to utter them. It may be instinctive; it may be that children vaguely realize that at the end of all wedding journeys is disillusion. ‘Let her go. "But first let us secure Sheppard. The chapel was again crowded with visitors, and every eye—even that of Jonathan Wild who had come thither to deride him,—was fixed upon him.
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