With savage pity Marjorie regarded a sobbing girl whose face was distorted, and whose palsied hands were trying to straighten her veil and push back stray wisps of hair. Marjorie thought: "What a fool she is to cry like that! Her nose is red; she's a sight. I can control myself. I can control myself."
An elderly man with an austere face, standing beside Marjorie, started to light a cigarette. His hands trembled violently and the match flickered...
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