CHAPTER IV. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. She knew the story only imperfectly, and followed it now with a passionate and deepening interest. We are not altogether strangers, are we? I feel that under the circumstances I have the right to offer you my advice, and if necessary my help.
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