--Butter you up! said Brother Michael. How could he utter in words to the priest what he had done? Must, must. He drove their echoes even out of his heart with an execration; but, as he walked down the avenue and felt the grey morning light falling about him through the dripping trees and smelt the strange wild smell of the wet leaves and bark, his soul was loosed of her miseries. She had done for them quite beautifully--she was a most respectable person-- till her death, the great awkwardness of which had, precisely, left no alternative but the school for little Miles.
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