From the kitchen, as she readies water to boil, Edith gravitates towards the doorway so she can look back at Thomas as he speaks. Some of this, she knows already, Lucille having mentioned their parents before. The details, though, are new, and it's hard to keep busy when he's saying things like this, even though she thinks maybe she should. The tea will be made faster that way, for one, and they probably could both use it, and it might take some of the pressure off.

"I take it that wasn't an accident," she replies softly, of the last thing he's said, and though there are few kind thoughts she can spare for Lucille, there's no judgment in her voice. They can't help the family that they were born into, either of them.

Briefly, then, she thinks of her own father, and what he'd said to Thomas the first day they met. Even then, barely knowing him herself, it had seemed harsh. Now, she can barely imagine how awful that must have been to hear.