‘Do not look at me so,’ he snapped. Having read the three first verses of the impressive service appointed for the burial of the dead, he returned to the church, whither the coffin was carried through the south-western door, and placed in the centre of the aisle—Mr. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. After all, I fancy that I shall have to apply for a situation as a nursery governess who understands French.
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