Mr. Harold Angus:—
Life is uncertain. I hope to live to restore to you a packet from one
whom I strongly suspect was dear to you. To find this package drove
me home from Grantbury, where I first heard that which connected you
in my thoughts with a young girl called Stella. I am not aware of its
contents, and can only say now that Stella died of consumption at the
Home for the Sick, loving and forgiving and blessing all those who
had been dear to her.