27 June

I had intended to write more of my conjectures today, as I am still confined to my room and have little else to do. I find, however, that I am nearly too tired to lift my pen; I believe that I may be sickening of the influenza. So I shall ask Mary, the little upstairs maid, to smuggle this off to the post.

I do wish I had had the chance to reassure James, but even if Aunt Elizabeth would have allowed me to do so, I do not think I have the energy to have ridden out.

Your loving cousin, Cecy