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He left Bournemouth without having given himself away, but in a month's time came back, and this time he spoke, not to the girl, but to her stepmother. He had made up his mind, he said; he would wait any time.
The father of my little baby was Harold Twyning who used to be in your office. We had been secretly engaged a very, very long time and then he was in an officers' training camp at Bournemouth where I was, and I don't think I quite understood. We were going to be married and then he had to go suddenly, and then he was afraid to tell his father and then this happened and he was more afraid.
November and December he should spend at Bournemouth under the best medical care, and after that, if needful, his wife would go with him to Madeira or some such place. No wonder Mrs. Damerel could think of nothing but the great fact that Horace had secured a fortune. Constitutional lightness of heart had enabled her to enjoy life on a steadily, and rapidly, diminishing fund.
A Roman pavement has been discovered within the area covered by the Minster Church; whether this is a remnant of a considerable station or only of a solitary villa is unknown. The beautiful Minster, one of the "sights" of Bournemouth, and, although farther afield, almost as popular as Christchurch, was founded at an early date in the history of Wessex, but the actual year is unknown.
She stood, a figure for Bournemouth pier, in her grotesque bonnet, and watched the son of the Umbrian saint the friar who walks among the Giotto frescoes at Assisi and between the cypresses of Bello Sguardo, and has paced the centuries continually since the coming of the friars. One might have asked of her the kindness of a fellow-feeling.
On the 2nd instant, at Bournemouth, Peter Fergusson, of Upper Baker Street, in the seventy-fifth year of his age." "Fergusson dead! and he is three years my junior! Now it is all mine all! all! I shall be able to settle it as I like. I haven't eaten and drunk in vain. I'm strong, quite strong. All the papers are there, in my bureau. I'll show them to you. Aha! I thought I'd outlive him!
This Frenchman is posted as to the tour. By the most curious of coincidences he will reappear at Bournemouth, or Bristol, or in the Wye Valley. What more natural than a day's run in company?... Ah, I've got it!
They are a mother and son, but they have been at Bournemouth ever since we came, six months ago. It is a frightful place, and although it is miles in the country it looks like a suburban villa; the outside is all stucco, and nasty, common-looking pots and bad statues ornament the drive. They pulled down the smaller original Jacobean house that was there when they bought the place, we have heard.
P. Q. Stephens said: "The book is a superb affair, and, as far as I have seen it, deserves all praise." R. L. Stevenson wrote: "BOURNEMOUTH. March 16, 1885. "My Dear Hamerton, Various things have been reminding me of my misconduct; first, Swan's application for your address; second, a sight of the sheets of your 'Landscape' book; and last, your note to Swan, which he was so kind as to forward.
Don't you wish he was with us to order the wine? And, by the way, is there a pier at Bournemouth?" Mrs. Devar ate her soup in petrified silence.
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