“Not all of it. But—”
“How does your wife get along with Carlotta?” Bertha asked, turning the folded sheet of letter-paper over in her hand.
“Oh, they get along fine, except that of late Carlotta is brooding a lot over the fact that they won’t tell her anything about her parents. She says she’s old enough now to be free to decide what to do. She is, of course, reconciled to the idea that she probably never will know who her father was. She hopes to find her mother. She’s a spoiled lazy brat, this Carlotta.”
“Her mother still living?”
“I think so. That’s the rub. As I understand it, the mother has been moving heaven and earth to find out where her daughter is. Theresa doesn’t look particularly brilliant, but don’t make any mistake — she’s a ruthless, savage fighter. She won’t stop at anything. I understand she’s put every obstacle she could in the woman’s way.”
“What woman?”
“The mother.”
“Theresa Goldring keeps an eye on her, then?”
“I understand so.”
“How?”