Annandale is not what you would exactly call a diverting village.”
Marian Devereux had come back to Annandale with Arthur Pickering; my faith in her snapped like a reed at this astounding news.
Bates had been into Annandale to mail some letters, and I was staring out upon the park from the library windows when he entered.
She was now entitled to my grandfather’s property and she had lost no time in returning as soon as she and Pickering had discussed together at the Armstrongs’ my flight from Annandale.
All the princes whom you speak of, excepting Bruce of Annandale, did assent to the newly offered claim of Edward on Scotland; but who, amongst them, had any probable chance for the throne, but Bruce or Baliol?
The next morning I walked into the village, mailed my letter, visited the railway station with true rustic instinct and watched the cutting out of a freight car for Annandale with a pleasure I had not before taken in that proceeding.