Bounderby says to Stephen, “You didn’t take your wife for fast and for loose; but for better for worse. If she has turned out worse – why, all we have got to say is, she might have turned out better.”
” ‘Tis a muddle,” said Stephen, shaking his head as he moved to the door. ” ‘Tis a muddle.”
Living with someone else, whether a partner or a son or daughter or a parent or a roommate or housemate, is a muddle; even living with yourself is a muddle. But somehow, at the end of the day, we’ve muddled through. How will Stephen muddle through? How will you? Or me?