![]() ![]() The school stood alone in the middle of a vast, rolling field, which was dotted with copses of trees there were no neighbors for miles in any direction. There were worse things for a house to hold. Still, lights could be seen at all levels of the school, both day and night, and the rooms were often filled with laughter. Some of the tower rooms stood higher than the attic some of the lower windows had been painted shut to keep them from flooding the halls every time it rained. Its replacement was a delightfully rambling sprawl of porches and doors, dormer windows and inexplicable chimneys. ![]() What it had been was gone, reduced to nothing but a faint echo in the shape of a door or the structure of an awning. The house had grown like a garden, sprouting wings and tower rooms and greenhouses as if they were nothing more consequential than mushrooms after a rain. It had been a modest three-story home, once upon a renovation, but it had been embellished over the course of generations by widows and widowers who had handled their grief and their inheritance in the same manner: by picking up a hammer and setting to work. ![]() The shape of the original architecture was still there, buried under newer construction. ![]() IT WAS OBVIOUS to anyone with a discerning eye that the school had started out as the country home of a family with more money than sense. ![]()
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