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...