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dreading as the deepest grief - It seemed no more worth a tear than the common incidents of the street.

I sat in the tram thinking of that as I watched a man plod up the hill guiding the extra horse attached to the tram. His hat pulled over his ears and his head bent down in the sun he walked along in silence except an occasional shout and lash of his whip on the tugging horse.

I [[strikethrough]] thought [[/strikethrough]] felt like crying but whether it was the sight of the man or the thought of Alice so very far from well I could not tell.

Alice in Barbizon with Geraldine Evans.

May 2nd
Uncle Joe died.

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[[underlined]] May 3d [[/underlined]] After dinner Aunty announced to me that a cablegram had arrived from home with the news of Uncle Joe's death. Felt it terribly - He was a true artist. And how much I owe to him and his family it was as if in the beginning he & Adelaide held the key to all I care for most in this world. A supreme scorn for all that did not belong to art, the merely useful[[strikethrough]]l[[/strikethrough]]. Nothing would have given me more real pleasure and pride than to have had uncle approval in my work.

May 6th
Vernissage at the Champs de Mars. Aunty went but I did not. Was sure Alice had arrived in Paris & went over & asked the concierge at the Evans if Miss E had come - Yes!

Felt more than
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