The next day he rose early and "did" Boston. It did not take him long, and he said to himself that half of it was very jolly, and half of it was too utterly beastly for anything. The Common, and the Gardens, and Commonwealth Avenue, you know, were rather pretty, and must have cost a deuce of a lot of money in this country; but as for the State House, and Paul Revere's Church, and the Old South, and the city generally, why, it was simply disgusting, all that, you know. And in the afternoon he went to see Sybil Brandon, and began talking about what he had seen. She was, if anything, more beautiful than ever, and as she looked at him, and held out her hand with a friendly greeting, Ronald felt himself actually blushing, and Sybil saw it and blushed too, a very little. Then they sat down by the window where there were plants, and they looked out at the snow and the people passing. Sybil asked Ronald what he had been doing. "I have been doing Boston," he said. "Of course it was the proper thing. But I am afraid I do not know much about it." "But do you like it?" she asked. "It is much more important, I think, to know whether you like things or dislike them, than to know everything about them. Do not you think so?" "Oh, of course," said Ronald. "But I like Boston very much; I mean the part where you live. All this, you know--Commonwealth Place, and the Public Park, you know, and Beacon Avenue, of course, very much. But the city"-- "You do not like the city?" suggested Sybil, seeing he hesitated, and smiling at his strange confusion of names. "No," said Ronald. "I think it is so cramped and ugly, and all little narrow streets. But then, of course, it is such a little place. You get into the country the moment you walk anywhere." "It seems very big to the Bostonians," said Sybil, laughing. "Oh, of course. You have lived here all your life, and so it is quite different." "I? Dear me no! I am not a Bostonian at all." "Oh," said Ronald, "I thought you were. That was the reason I was not sure of abusing the city to you. But it is not a bad place, I should think, when you know lots of people, and that was such a pretty drive we went yesterday." "Yes, it must seem very new to you. Everything must, I should think, most of all this casual way we have of receiving people. But there really is a Mrs. Wyndham, with whom I am staying, and she will be in before long." "Oh--don't--don't mention her," said Ronald, hastily, "I mean it--it is of no importance whatever, you know." He blushed violently. Sybil laughed, and Ronald blushed again, but in all his embarrassment lie could not help thinking what a silvery ring there was in her voice. "I am afraid Mrs. Wyndham would not like it, if she heard you telling me she was not to be mentioned, and was not of any importance whatever. But she is a very charming woman, and I am very fond of her." "She is your aunt, I presume, Miss Brandon?" said Ronald.