Amanda sniffed. Elizabeth, she thought, was all too prone to attach a false importance to mundane things like food. Was her country's fate nothing to her? But, all the same, Amanda suffered herself to be led to where their little rowing-boat was beached, and graciously permitted Elizabeth to row her down the Loch towards the house and lunch.
From AMANDA'S SPIES, Jane Shaw's first short story, published in 1941.
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