Oh, the thimble. Viola could write a whole book of poetry about all of the mixed emotions that little iron thimble unleashed inside of her: jealousy, suspicion, curiosity, excitement, trepidation, and now guilt. "You've found me out," she bows her head. She shouldn't have lied to him. "I didn't mean to keep it from you," she tells him, tucking her hair behind her ear.