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Gazetteer
Summerton, SC -- U.S. town in South Carolina
Population (2000): 1061
Housing Units (2000): 516
Land area (2000): 1.154111 sq. miles (2.989134 sq. km)
Water area (2000): 0.000000 sq. miles (0.000000 sq. km)
Total area (2000): 1.154111 sq. miles (2.989134 sq. km)
FIPS code: 70225
Located within: South Carolina (SC), FIPS 45
Location: 33.605145 N, 80.352159 W
ZIP Codes (1990): 29148
Note: some ZIP codes may be omitted esp. for suburbs.
Headwords:
Summerton, SC
Summerton

Usage examples of "summerton".

I'm Mistress Summerton, although your mother called me Missy when she was just about your age .

In fact, I decided, this Mistress Summerton herself was almost pretty as well, old and wizened and changed though she seemed.

My astonishment was still growing as Mistress Summerton added to the haze by lighting a clay pipe.

It seemed as if my mother and Mistress Summerton had long been sitting in silence.

Then, in a gesture that was rare even between people of the same family in those times of physical reserve, Mistress Summerton stepped forward and took my mother in her small brown arms.

Annalise, Mistress Summerton – in silence, although, as I wandered the town, my head was filled with questions which had previously never troubled me.

Or you could escape with Mistress Summerton and live with her and that Annalise girl.

Aether can turn both ways — I felt I understood that now as Mistress Summerton sniffed the leeks and squeezed the loaves for freshness.

Mistress Summerton took my hand and drew me on past buckets of buttons from Dudley and mountains of sugar brought here all the way from the Fortunate Isles and blotchy heaps of waterapples which came down the road from Harmanthorpe.

With bars on its windows and bolts on its doors, hidden passageways, hatches and peepholes burrowed within its walls, it had long been empty by the time Mistress Summerton arrived, and her first memories were of the smell of damp, and the dulled murmuring of hidden voices.

At night, Mistress Summerton would gnaw the wood of her bedstead, and sit rocking on her haunches, moaning and howling.

It all seemed so natural and innocuous that Mistress Summerton had almost turned and gone from sight before I was shocked out of my daydream.

Whatever it was, Mistress Summerton let me climb beside her on the leather bench of her car as she once more set the engine thrumming.

Then I was standing on Thripp Street's weedgrown paving and Mistress Summerton and her car had vanished.

If I'd ever thought about the possibility of Mistress Summerton living anywhere in London, this would certainly have been the place.