“That the baby belonged to the old mother—that it was brother to your girl, who was writing to you as a friend of the family.”
He stood smiling, with the long, subtle malice of a farmer.
“And did she take it in?” he asked.
“As much as she took anything else.”
He stood grinning fixedly. Then he broke into a short laugh.
“Good for her!” he exclaimed cryptically.
And then he laughed aloud once more, evidently feeling he had won a big move in his contest with his wife.
“What about the other woman?” I asked.
“Who?”
“Elise.”