Town or county in Ontario

Usage examples of dundas.

They had been foremost in damning Dundas with their sly, pejorative words, their judgment of his character, wise after the event.

It was she he thought of more than Dundas, she whose grief outweighed his own, and which tore still at the deep well of emotion within him, unhealed even now.

But what hurt with a massive, drowning pain—because it was irretrievable—was the fear that in the past the fraud for which Arrol Dundas had died was in some way responsible for the crash Monk remembered with such awful guilt.

Monk had a sudden start of memory of Arrol Dundas, so vivid he could see the lines in Dundas’s skin, the curve of his nose, and a gentleness in his eyes as he looked across at Monk.

And if Monk had betrayed Arrol Dundas, and had even the slightest knowing or willing hand in the rail crash in the past, then he had never been the man Hester believed him to be, and everything he had so carefully built, with such difficult letting go of his pride, would come shattering down like a house of cards.

The attendant was at his elbow to tell him they were closing when he saw the name Dundas, and then the rest of it: He had died of pneumonia in prison in Liverpool, April 1846.

He knew now as if it were all clear in his fragmented mind just what the final verdict would be, not because it was true but because there were too many of the negotiations conducted by Dundas, agreements with his signature on them, money in his accounts.

If he had said anything at all to help clear Dundas, it was not reported.

He could not remember what he had said, only the feeling of being trapped, stared at by the crowd, frowned on by the judge, weighed and assessed by the jurors, fought over by the opposing counsel, and looked to for help he could not give by Dundas himself.

Arrol Dundas was in the dock—and that perception made all the difference.

There seemed no question that Dundas had purchased land in his own name, farmland of poor quality, which he had paid market value for, little enough when you need it for running sheep.

It was for Dundas, white-faced, crumpled as if age had caught up with him and shrunken him inside and in a day he had been struck by twenty years.

As he had already heard from the clerk days ago, there was nothing wrong with the track—there was no connection whatever with the fraud, or with Arrol Dundas, or therefore with Monk.

And now he was no longer rationally sure that Dundas had been innocent.

He had seen Dundas as he wished him to be, like millions before him, and millions to come.