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Feb 19th 48 

Oh my darling daughter

It seems to be my fate in life to be always too late and too little for those I love and dearly cherish. 

How strange for me to sit here this evening looking over your letters and gazing at that last, so utterly charming birthday painted letter, with its music, Dads clarinet, and the gay flowers spilling out of the cornucopia, just the way your love has always poured out for Dad and me - and I not know it is precisely February 19th and your own dear birthday!

I had written the date on paper! Some records that Tom should have received days ago