That evening, about nine o'clock, Mr. Broune called in Welbeck Street. He very often did call now, coming up in a cab, staying for a cup of tea, and going back in the same cab to the office of his newspaper. Since Lady Carbury had, so devotedly, abstained from accepting his offer, Mr. Broune had become almost sincerely attached to her. There was certainly between them now more of the intimacy of real friendship than had ever existed in earlier days. He spoke to her more freely about his own affairs, and even she would speak to him with some attempt at truth. There was never between them now even a shade of love-making. She did not look into his eyes, nor did he hold her hand. As for kissing her,--he thought no more of it than of kissing the maid-servant. But he spoke to her of the things that worried him,--the unreasonable exactions of proprietors, and the perilous inaccuracy of contributors. He told her of the exceeding weight upon his shoulders, under which an Atlas would have succumbed. And he told her something too of his triumphs;--how he had had this fellow bowled over in punishment for some contradiction, and that man snuffed out for daring to be an enemy. And he expatiated on his own virtues, his justice and clemency. Ah,--if men and women only knew his good nature and his patriotism;--how he had spared the rod here, how he had made the fortune of a man there, how he had saved the country millions by the steadiness of his adherence to some grand truth! Lady Carbury delighted in all this and repaid him by flattery, and little confidences of her own. Under his teaching she had almost made up her mind to give up Mr. Alf. Of nothing was Mr. Broune more certain than that Mr. Alf was making a fool of himself in regard to the Westminster election and those attacks on Melmotte. "The world of London generally knows what it is about," said Mr. Broune, "and the London world believes Mr. Melmotte to be sound. I don't pretend to say that he has never done anything that he ought not to do. I am not going into his antecedents. But he is a man of wealth, power, and genius, and Alf will get the worst of it." Under such teaching as this, Lady Carbury was almost obliged to give up Mr. Alf.

That evening Mr. Broune called in Welbeck Street. He often called now, coming in a cab, staying for a cup of tea, and going back in the same cab to the newspaper office. Since Lady Carbury had refused his offer, Mr. Broune had become almost sincerely attached to her. There was certainly more real friendship between them than had ever existed earlier. He spoke to her more freely about his affairs, and she would speak to him with some attempt at honesty. There was no love-making between them. But he talked of the things that worried him, and also of his editorial triumphs; how he had saved the country millions by telling some grand truth!
Lady Carbury delighted in all this and repaid him by little confidences of her own. She had almost made up her mind to give up Mr. Alf. Mr. Broune thought that Mr. Alf was making a fool of himself with the Westminster election and those attacks on Melmotte.
"London believes Mr. Melmotte to be sound," he said. "I don't pretend that he has never done anything that he ought not to. But he is a man of wealth, power, and genius, and Alf will get the worst of it."
