ime, I  to Emmeline’s quarters. It  time I ed guest, and t ticed, before I even entered t noticed me yet—and realized it y, t plosives t  you migake for time I t it opped a ion brus my ear like a moting on my tered away again.

    I cleared my t.

    ‘Margaret.“ Miss inter, ioned next to er, gestured to a che bed. ”how good of you.“

    I looked at Emmeline’s face on te e of scarring and burn damage t I  none of ill tangled skein of lessly  to my presence. . Some alteration aken place in antly visible to too elusive to define. S notrengtended outside t and in it ser’s hand in a firm grip.

    ‘how are you, Emmeline?“ I asked nervously.

    ‘S er.

    Miss inter, too,  days. But in illation: t reduced  exposed ime I sa, and teel at er was revealed.

    All t  Emmeline c.

    ‘ould you like me to read?“ I asked.

    ‘By all means.“

    I read a cer. ter murmured. Emmeline’s eyes o it. the beginnings of bruises on her fingers.

    Seeing tion of my gaze, so  terruption to our  spend my time  must . But it  be long nomas coming. You ing to leave us and be er tand. I expect… ”—it  of pauses—“hen.”

    I did not immediately understand   ao Emmeline’s sleeping face.

    ‘Do you mean… ?“

    Miss inter sig be taken in by t t srong. Sime. For years I assumed t I o see  before me. t so sure. And no seems o the finish line.”

    So t’s ing for. t   end.

    Suddenly my t ened as a child’s.

    Dying. Emmeline was dying.

    ‘Is it my fault?“

    ‘Your fault?  be your fault?“ Miss inter s nigo do .“

    S understood more t to reveal. “ you, Margaret? My sister is a stranger to you. And it is  distresses you so, is it? tell me, Margaret, ter?”

    In part s Miss inter  to join me in tees. Bereaved to it t. ten s-tempered and contrary, I o like Miss inter. In particular I liked tly noones, so gro er, and ter’s sorro my o

    aken place for me in the days before I could remember.

    I c already separated me from my sister. Soon s and be lost to us, a ne oto rusted to one o say?

    I felt Miss inter’s curious gaze upon my face. I restrained my folly.

    ‘how long?“ I asked.

    ‘Days. A week, per long.“

    I sat up late t niger. I  t day, too. e sat, reading aloud or in silence for long periods, on coming to interrupt our vigil. o take my presence tural toer as ly about Emmeline’s decline. And sometimes t ening  and finisence sometimes. uts ran into Emma, ace Diamonds, e. Fragments. It didn’t matter. Art, its completeness, its formedness, its finiso console. ords, on t ter to t of Emmeline’s breathing.

    tomorroure. In a   to leave. tariness offered by its garden, ed of t present. tant still. As for Cmas… In our ive season follooo close upon my birto be able to bear tion of tter  of my fatmas cards from my parents’ feas, snoting aside t sed a secret pile of ture at e, perfect infant; t gazing back at  in tras of them.

    Miss inter, I kne object if I asked to stay. S even be glad to  I did not ask. I could not. I  igold me t t far off. It   unity to escape, and I took it.

    In t to my room and did my packing, t back to Emmeline’s quarters to say good-bye to Miss inter. All ters’ iller ter  if so read no longer; instead, cer’s face. In ly h. her eyes were closed and she looked deeply asleep.

    ‘Margaret,“ Miss inter murmured, indicating a c I ogeted for t to fade, listening to tide of Emmeline’s breath.

    Bet, in a smooturbable rhe sound of waves on a seashore.

    Miss inter did not speak, and I, too, , composing in my mind impossible messages I migo my sister via t traveler to t otion, th a deeper and more enduring sorrow.

    Against tte, Miss inter stirred.

    ‘You s in told me s to me across the bed.

    My fingers closed on a rectangular leat al lock. Some sort of book.

    ‘From Emmeline’s treasure box. It  be needed anymore. Go a. alk.“

    Book in o ture in my patide of Emmeline’s breat.