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Elena looked at him, said: 'Oh, my good, kind friend! broke into sobs and rushed away. Bersenyev leaned against the door. A feeling of sorrow and bitterness, not without a kind of strange consolation, overcame him. 'My good, kind friend! he thought and shrugged his shoulders. 'Who is here? he heard Insarov's voice. Bersenyev went up to him. 'I am here, Dmitri Nikanorovitch. How are you?
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