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There was a very genuine grief, though none knew Marjory as I had known her; the more emotional wept, the older ones indulged in little semi-pious conventional comments, oddly foreign to their usual tone; all even the most thoughtless felt the same hush and awe overtake them. I could not cry; I felt nothing, except a dull rage at my own insensibility. Marjory was dead and I had no tears.
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