"Where did you get it?" he asked, looking up at Lydia.
Something inside her throat had swollen. She swallowed over it with difficulty before she spoke. But she did speak.
"I took it."
"Took it?"
He got up, and, with a belated courtesy, pulled forward a chair. But Lydia did not see it. Her eyes were fixed on his face, as if in its changes would lie her destiny.
"You mean you found it."
"No. I didn't find it. I took it."
"You must have found it first."
"I looked for it," said Lydia.
"Where?"