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Updated: May 2, 2025
Our only servant went. She had to get up at an unearthly hour, and I I got up too. I helped her to get off. And when she was gone I went up to my bedroom again and cried. I cried with envy for any one, any one who could go away. I've been nowhere except to school at Chichester and three or four times to Emsworth and Bognor for eight years.
I had glanced over his shoulder at the addresses of some of the letters Steadman of Basingstoke, Wintle of Alresford, Fortescue of Bognor, all well-known leaders of the Dissenters. If they were what he represented them to be, it was no exaggeration to say that he held the fortunes and fates of these men entirely in his hands.
In 1868 he took an autumn walk through Sussex and Hampshire while his wife was at Bognor. In the next year his wife died, after being afflicted for some time by troubles connected with her property, by dropsy, valvular disease of the heart, and "hysteria."
The young lady who had sat on Major Jones's right was singing a ballad. Suddenly she paused in the middle of her song. The four people who were playing bridge looked up. Mrs. Bognor screamed. "What was that?" she asked quickly. "It sounded," Peter Ruff said, "very much like revolver shot."
Felpham is now the eastern suburb of Bognor, and is linked to the town by a small bungalow colony. Here Hayley came after selling Eartham, but the place is now more famous for its associations with the poet's friend Blake, who lived for three years in the small thatched cottage which still stands at the seaward end of the village.
He looked over his shoulder and about him, and saw that they were already out of Bognor for the Vicuna stands at the very westernmost extremity of the sea front and riding on a fair wide road. Then he returned panting to the Vicuna Hotel, and finding a group of men outside the entrance, who wanted to know what was UP, stopped to give them the cream of the adventure.
To the secluded house at Bognor—a house so surrounded by trees and shrubs that the murmur of the waves mingling with the whispers of the leaves seemed at one moment the sea’s voice, and at another the voice of the earth—Rossetti took not only the cartoon of the ‘Astarte Syriaca,’ but also the most peculiar of all his pictures, ‘The Blessed Damozel,’ which had long lain in an incomplete state.
In the meantime, I must trouble you to pay your respects to Mrs. Bognor and to come with me." "To Sir Richard's house?" Major Jones asked, eagerly. "To the police-stations," Peter Ruff answered. Major Jones did not rise. He sat for a few moments with his head buried in his hands. "Mr. Ruff," he said hoarsely, "listen to me. I have been fortunate lately in some investments.
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