“That’s enough, Michelle!” Diane snapped in the ugly raised voice of the enforcer. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. “You remind me of a little blue stone I had once. It was approached from the street by a flight of broad stone steps, leading to a ponderous door, plated with iron, and secured on the inner side by huge bolts, and a lock, with wards of a prodigious size. 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. Petite build, like herself.
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