[For a moment she hesitates, which is quite unlike her. The tip of her pen sits simply depressed on the page, ink spreading out slowly from a single point. There is a swift breath of frustration as she notices it, because she has no sand with which to blot the error
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Reinette! [have a bundled up Rose, with skates in hand, coming over toward the duck pond/lake]
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Good afternoon Rose.
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