DR. HASENCLEVER AND MRS. BLETCHLEY
Then they went back to the hotel to lunch; and in the afternoon Mrs. Bletchley saw the doctor, who gave her a prescription for spectacles, and said she had nothing to fear; and was charming to Leah and to Ida, who spoke French so well, and to the pretty and lively Mrs. Gibson, who lost her heart to him and spoke the most preposterous French he had ever heard.
He was fond of pretty English women, the good German doctor, whatever French they spoke.
They were quite an hour there. Meanwhile Barty went to Beresford Duff's, and found Julia and Lady Jane drinking tea, as usual at that hour.
"Who are your uncommonly well‑dressed friends, Barty?" said Mr. Duff. "I never met any of them that I can remember."
"Well—they're just from London—the elder lady is a Mrs. Bletchley."
"Not one of the Berkshire Bletchleys, eh?"
"Oh no—she's the widow of a London solicitor."
"Dear me! And the lovely, tall, black‑eyed damigella—who's she?"