C below. “That is very nice of you,” she said. It seemed to show a want of affection, to be a deliberate and unmerited disregard, to justify the reprisal of being hurt. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. ‘Pardon, mademoiselle, but perhaps your father went to England, after all, and —’ ‘My father went to Italy,’ interrupted Melusine, her heart tightening with the familiar sensation of loss. If we fail,” said Capes, “then—” “We aren’t going to fail,” said Ann Veronica. "I can't make you understand; I can't make you see things as I see them. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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