CHAPTER XXIII. I'll be at the Cross Shovels in the course of the day. But he only went home again to Paddington. When younger, and in better health, she must have been eminently lovely; and there were still the remains of great beauty about her. Wood, the carpenter, who formerly resided here, is still living?" "If you feel any anxiety on his account, Sir, I'm happy to be able to relieve it," answered Kneebone, readily. The end of the world seemed at hand. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. 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.
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