interchange of the true word?

Lydia came to the supper table with the rest. She was rather quiet and
absorbed and not especially alive to Jeff's coming in. No quick glance
questioned him about the state of things as he had left them. But after
supper she lingered behind the others and asked him directly:

"Couldn't we go out somewhere and talk?"

"Yes," said he. "We could walk down to the river."

They started at once, and Anne, seeing them go, sighed deeply. Lydia was
shut away from her lately. Anne missed her.

Lydia and Jeff went down the narrow path at the back of the house, a
path that had never, so persistent was it, got quite grown over in the
years when the maiden ladies lived here. Perhaps boys had kept it alive,
running that way. At the foot and on the river bank were bushes, alder
and a wilderness of small trees bound by wild grape-vines into a wall.
Through these Lydia led the way to the fallen birch by the waterside.
She turned and faced Jeffrey in the gathering dusk. He fancied her face
looked paler than it should.

"Does she know it?" asked Lydia.

"Who?"

"Esther. Does she know I stole it out of the bag?"

"Yes," said Jeff. Suddenly he determined to tell the truth to Lydia. She
looked worthy of it. He wouldn't save her pain that belonged to the
tangle where they groped. He and she would share the pain together. "She
guessed it. Nobody told her she was right."

"Then," said Lydia, "I must go away."

"Go away?"

"To save Farvie and Anne. They mustn't know it. I wanted to go this
afternoon, just as soon as you took the necklace away from me and I
realised what people would say. But I knew that would be silly. People
can't run away and leave notes behind. But I can tell Anne I want to go
to New York and get pupils. And I could get them. I can do housework,
too."

She was an absolutely composed Lydia. She had forestalled him in her
colossal common-sense.

"But, Lydia," said he, "you don't need to. Madame Beattie has her
necklace. I gave it back into her hand. I daresay the old harpy will
want hush money, but that's not your business. It's mine. I can't give
her any if I would, and she knows it. She'll simply light here like a
bird of prey for a while and harry me for money to shield Esther, to
shield you, and when she finds she can't get it she'll sail peacefully
off."

"Madame Beattie wouldn't do anything hateful to me," said Lydia.

"Oh, yes, she would, if she could get an income out