‘It was very kind of you to come,’ she said, giving him her hand; ‘and I am afraid you have not enjoyed it, Roger; but you will like them better when you see more of them.’ She said this as people say so many things, apologetic and otherwise, not because she wanted to apologise for the Merediths, but because she did not know very well what to say. ‘I don’t think I shall ever like them,’ said Roger; ‘but that does not matter. Cara, let me just say one word. I don’t think that they are the right kind of people--for you.’ ‘For me!’ After the first astonishment Cara laughed. ‘I did not think you set up for being such a critic. What have they done to make you think ill of them? They have been very kind to you.’ ‘I did not want their kindness,’ said Roger, hotly; ‘they are not the kind of people I like to see you with, Cara.’ ‘I think I will say good-night,’ said Cara, with dignity. ‘It is cold here, and you have a long walk to Notting Hill. It is a pity you missed your train. Good-night.’ She did not so much as look at him, as she turned away and disappeared, the door closing behind her. He had offended her now to make an appropriate finish of this unhappy Sunday! But however cold it might have been to Cara, it was not cold to Roger as he pushed his way at a tremendous pace along the Sunday streets, so much darker than usual on account of the closed shops, and filled with passengers so different from the usual crowd. He would have kept himself warm in Siberia at that pace. His aunt was waiting for him, but half-disposed to give up her watch, and wondering what had become of him, as he thought she would. ‘I am very glad to have you for another night, Roger; but I thought you must have rushed off to catch the train without thinking of your portmanteau,’ she said; and then she gave him a glass of wine, half-proud, half-disappointed to hear that he had dined ‘with his fine friends,’ and sent him to bed with kind good-nights; for he had to start early in the morning, and, no doubt, she thought, the day had been fatiguing, though so pleasant. She was kinder than Cara; perhaps it would have been better for him if he had not gone to the Square at all, but contented himself with Notting Hill. CHAPTER XVII. EDWARD.