He gazed at the widow.

Now she was not much past thirty; and it was really singular--he could have laughed--thinking of Mrs.Barcop set him persistently thinking of Lady Camper.

That is to say, his mad fancy reverted from the lady of perhaps thirty-five to the lady of seventy.
Such, thought he, is genius in a woman! Of his neighbours generally, Mrs.Baerens, the wife of a German merchant, an exquisite player on the pianoforte, was the most inclined to lead him to speak of Lady Camper.
She was a kind prattling woman, and was known to have been a governess before her charms withdrew the gastronomic Gottfried Baerens from his devotion to the well-served City club, where, as he exclaimed (ever turning fondly to his wife as he vocalized the compliment), he had found every necessity, every luxury, in life, 'as you cannot have dem out of London--all save de female!' Mrs.Baerens, a lady of Teutonic extraction, was distinguishable as of that sex; at least, she was not masculine.

She spoke with great respect of Lady Camper and her family, and seemed to agree in the General's eulogies of Lady Camper's constitution.

Still he thought she eyed him strangely.
One April morning the General received a letter with the Italian postmark.