The chaplain felt most deceitful presiding at funerals, and it would not have astonished him to learn that the apparition in the tree that day was a manifestation of the Almighty’s censure for the blasphemy and pride inherent in his function.
Who would shield him against animosity and deceit, against people with ambition and the embittered snobbery of the big shot’s wife, against the squalid, corrupting indignities of the profit motive and the friendly neighborhood butcher with inferior meat?
There are no more uses of "deceit" in the book.
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I’ll never forget her deceit.
Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true.