MISS THOMASINA TUCKER
ace for news, but as he was driving by the deanery on the north side of Cathedral Green, he encountered Mrs. Kennion in her victoria. She signaled him with her hand and spoke to her coachman, who drew up his horses. Alighting from his hansom, he strode forward to take her welcoming hand, his face radiating the pleasure of a home-coming traveler.
“If you’ll let the cabman take your luggage, I’d like to drive you home myself. I have something to tell you,” said Mrs. Kennion, making room for him by her side.
“Nothing has happened, I hope?” he asked anxiously.
“Miss Tucker is leaving for America to-morrow morning.”
“Going away?” Appleton’s tone was one of positive dismay.
“Yes. It is all very sudden and unexpected.”
“Sailing to-morrow?” exclaimed Appleton, taking out his watch. “From where? How can I get there?”
“Not sailing to-morrow—leaving Wells
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