Tretherick had sent for this child of his first wife--this child of whose existence he had never seemed to care--just to insult her, to fill her place.

Doubtless the first wife herself would follow soon, or perhaps there would be a third.

Red hair, not auburn, but RED--of course the child, this Caroline, looked like its mother, and, if so, she was anything but pretty.

Or the whole thing had been prepared: this red-haired child, the image of its mother, had been kept at a convenient distance at Sacramento, ready to be sent for when needed.

She remembered his occasional visits there on--business, as he said.