From : Thun, Switzerland

December 25, 1914

My dearest Alexander,

I am finally free of that horrid isolation ward, but I must be truthful and say that I still haven't gotten my strength back. We ended up having to remain in quarantine longer than expected as one of the young ladies suffering developed rheumatic fever. It was too much for the poor thing and her body simply gave out on her. The rest of us were fortunate enough not to develop the rheumatic fever, but I can understand why they required us to spend an additional two weeks in isolation to assure themselves that none of us did.

The doctor over our case told me that what originally made the five of us ill was improperly pasteurized milk. It seems unbearably cruel that Meredith is dead over something that could have so easily been prevented by something as simple as heating milk. I certainly won't be inclined to tease Ermengarde any longer about her habit of only drinking scalded milk.

On to other topics. I am not cross with Ermengarde for writing you when I was unable to do so myself. I would certainly want to know if you were ill, so I cannot expect for you to inform me if I keep similar things hidden. Of course, I was not deliberately keeping anything from you. By the time that I knew something was wrong, I was in quarantine. A situation I sincerely hope to never find myself in again. Feeling terribly ill while surrounded by others equally as ill and with not a thing to do but to dwell on those feelings? When my mind was clear enough to think, I was bored out of my mind.

I was so pleased to see the package waiting on me and I opened it at midnight by the window. The picture of you in uniform is something that I wanted very much, but was uncertain of how to request it. I am so sorry for the brevity of this, but I am assured that my stamina will return by leaps and bounds now that I am up to eating things more substantial than broths and jellies. Fates willing, I shall write you again on New Year's Day. Be well.

As always, all my love,

Millicent