Ernest poured the milk into both their cups, then added sugar just to hers - he was lucky he even had it, it was merely a cocktail ingredient to him.
"Mm, no," he responded, heading back through to the living room. "The typewriter appeared under that big tree at Christmas. The photographs happened to be inside the case," he told her, handing over her coffee. "I'd kept them in there when I went to Spain," he added.