How ______Cindy grows! She’s almost as tall as her mother no

As she walked round the huge department store,Edith reflected how difficult it was to choose a suitable Christmas present for her father.She wish that he was as easy to please as her mother, who was always delighted with perfume
Besides,shoppong at this time of the year was a most disgreeable experience :people trod on your toes,poked you with their elbows and almost knocked you overin their haste to get to a bargain ahead of you.
Partly to have a rest, Edith paused in front of a counter where some attracive ties were on display. "They are real silk," the assistant assured her, trying to tempt her. "Worth double the price." But edit knew from past experience that her choice of ties hardly ever pleased her father.
She moved on reluctantly and then quite by chance, stopped where a small crowd of man had gathered round a counter. She found some good quality pipes on sale-----and the prices were very reasonable. Edith did not hesitate for long : although her father only smoked a pipe occasionally, she knew that this was a present which was bund to please him.
When she got home,with her small well-chosen present concealed in her handbag, her parents were already at the supper table. Her mother was in an especially cheerful mood, "Your father has at last to decided to stop smoking." She informed her daughter.
Edith's father smoked a pipe_______.

a.when he was obliged
b.on social occasions
c.from time to time
d.when he was delighted

I've loved my mother's desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat writing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the more wonderful thing in the world. Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother."But the desk," she'd said again, "it's for Elizaheth."
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in acdou. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter. They never happened.And a gulf opened between us. I was "too emotional". But she lived "on the surface".
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she ebose that she did forgive me. I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came. My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace-it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn't be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and l could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she'd never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded and refolded many times. Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
What did mother do with her daughter's letter asking forgiveness?

A.She had never received the letter.
B.For years, she often talked about the letter.
C.She didn't forgive her daughter at all in all her life.
D.She read the letter again and again till she died.