Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. Spurling and Marvel rose too. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler. I knew it. 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. A town called Foster.
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