She looked round the room, longing for a friend, whom she might consult with a true feeling of genuine womanly dependence. Her most natural friend was Roger Carbury. But even had he been there she could not have consulted him on any matter touching the Melmottes. His advice would have been very clear. He would have told her to have nothing at all to do with such adventurers. But then dear Roger was old fashioned, and knew nothing of people as they are now. He lived in a world which, though slow, had been good in its way; but which, whether bad or good, had now passed away. Then her eye settled on Mr. Broune. She was afraid of Mr. Alf. She had almost begun to think that Mr. Alf was too difficult of management to be of use to her. But Mr. Broune was softer. Mr. Booker was serviceable for an article, but would not be sympathetic as a friend. Mr. Broune had been very courteous to her lately;--so much so that on one occasion she had almost feared that the "susceptible old goose" was going to be a goose again. That would be a bore; but still she might make use of the friendly condition of mind which such susceptibility would produce. When her guests began to leave her, she spoke a word aside to him. She wanted his advice. Would he stay for a few minutes after the rest of the company? He did stay, and when all the others were gone she asked her daughter to leave them. "Hetta," she said, "I have something of business to communicate to Mr. Broune." And so they were left alone. "I'm afraid you didn't make much of Mr. Melmotte," she said smiling. He had seated himself on the end of a sofa, close to the arm-chair which she occupied. In reply, he only shook his head and laughed. "I saw how it was, and I was sorry for it; for he certainly is a wonderful man." "I suppose he is, but he is one of those men whose powers do not lie, I should say, chiefly in conversation. Though, indeed, there is no reason why he should not say the same of me;--for if he said little, I said less." "It didn't just come off," Lady Carbury suggested with her sweetest smile. "But now I want to tell you something. I think I am justified in regarding you as a real friend." "Certainly," he said, putting out his hand for hers. She gave it to him for a moment, and then took it back again,--finding that he did not relinquish it of his own accord. "Stupid old goose!" she said to herself. "And now to my story. You know my boy, Felix?" The editor nodded his head. "He is engaged to marry that man's daughter." "Engaged to marry Miss Melmotte?" Then Lady Carbury nodded her head. "Why, she is said to be the greatest heiress that the world has ever produced. I thought she was to marry Lord Nidderdale."