September — In Redding, Conn. Sam wrote to Marjorie Breckenridge.
I can’t, Marjorie dear, my activities are pretty definitely suspended. I can’t drive, I can’t walk, I am a prisoner. I am as well as anybody—as long as I keep still; but the least little exertion gives me such a bitter pain in the chest that I could enjoy it more than anything in the world if somebody else had it.
You must look in on me, Marjorie, & if I get over this before you go away, I’ll pay back. /Affectionately / [MTP; MTAq 265].