Allenora

We sisters three
Who watch the sea
And comb our long hair, sighing
We weep for thee
Who holds the key
And guards the threshold, dying

- Aethelwyne’s Short Verses and Tall Tales

February 12, 1955

I will see to it that the good Doctor assumes her charge when my sister takes her ultimate promenade. He will bear it well. I am not sure how much he knows of me, but he was a good friend to my sister and he is an intelligent, conscientious, farseeing man in his own right.

On second thought, he will need some time to grow accustomed to the task; it is not an easy one. It should never have gone to the young one in such a way. He will come into it sooner than planned, but it cannot be helped. My sister is not as precise as I am. Perhaps later this year; that should just about do it.

My poor sister. Taken in by the one with stars in his eyes. He is not the doorman. She will not be in time, but perhaps she will be in Time. I will see her again, when the day comes.