MISS THOMASINA TUCKER
nice sandy levels for books and papers and writing-pad.
“Miss Tucker, may I invade your solitude for a moment? Our mutual friend, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, has written asking me to look you up as a fellow countryman and see if I can be of any service to you so far away from home.”
Tommy looked up, observed a good-looking American holding a letter in one hand and lifting a hat with the other, and bade him welcome.
“How kind of the bishop! But he is always doing kind things; his wife, too. I have seen much of them since I came to England.”
“My name is Appleton, Fergus Appleton, at your service.”
“Won’t you take a stone, or make yourself a hollow in the sand?” asked Tommy hospitably. “I came out here to read and study, and get rid of the week-enders. Is n’t Bexley Sands a lovely spot, and do you ever get tired of the bacon and the kippered herring, and the fruit tarts with Devonshire cream?”
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