Any day now the Mansion will be blanketed in snow and festooned with icicles, right on schedule; but for the moment, the lawns are still bare, the wind brisk but not bitter, the air bracing. Conveniently, because something seems to be going on
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Clar is humming to herself as she adjusts things - they aren't quite where they ought to be. Not in the way she sees them, anyway.
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She pauses. "Not to change a body more than's seemly. Get rid of colds. And the like."
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She looks thoughtfully at the empty space and moves a few things around it half an inch or so in various directions.
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