My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. See paragraph 1. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners.
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