after the church assembly
It has been a long morning, and after the church sermon, Tom finds himself standing by the edge of the creek by the church, looking out, deep in thought.
It has been a difficult week. Nay, weeks.
His family have been sending him letters he simply could not postmark a reply for quick enough; life has been complicated as it is in London and in Hampshire, and yet his family's debts have been rising. Everything has been growing hopeless, but he could never tell a soul this. His uncle would say the fault was their own, and while he had friends, none of them were the sort he could ... share this sort of bad news with.
They were for forgetting his problems, not sharing them.
And of course, there was the matter of his Door, the one that would take him to the bar at the end of the universe. He hadn't seen it for quite some time now; he was beginning to wonder whether he would ever see it again.
Finally, there was the little matter of Miss Austen, whom he has been watching a little more closely.
"I have read your book," a voice calls out to him.
He turns around, thoughts forcefully pushed aside. He pulls his hat off and bows politely, a smile - genuine, surprisingly - appearing as (speak of the devil) Miss Jane Austen approaches.
It has been a difficult week. Nay, weeks.
His family have been sending him letters he simply could not postmark a reply for quick enough; life has been complicated as it is in London and in Hampshire, and yet his family's debts have been rising. Everything has been growing hopeless, but he could never tell a soul this. His uncle would say the fault was their own, and while he had friends, none of them were the sort he could ... share this sort of bad news with.
They were for forgetting his problems, not sharing them.
And of course, there was the matter of his Door, the one that would take him to the bar at the end of the universe. He hadn't seen it for quite some time now; he was beginning to wonder whether he would ever see it again.
Finally, there was the little matter of Miss Austen, whom he has been watching a little more closely.
"I have read your book," a voice calls out to him.
He turns around, thoughts forcefully pushed aside. He pulls his hat off and bows politely, a smile - genuine, surprisingly - appearing as (speak of the devil) Miss Jane Austen approaches.