“I must be going. I will see you again at breakfast. Thank you for your sympathy and well-meant advice.” He moved away with his customary stately tread, and St Armand looked after him. “Truly I am taking Mr Barringcourt’s place,” said he, “and turning Father Confessor to the great High Priest. So he is going to begin to look out for some one in his own position, for a woman friend. Some stout dowager-duchess or philanthropic princess--highly respectable, that all the world will approve. Well, the dowager-duchesses and the princesses might amuse _me_, but I’m afraid he’ll hardly find them funny enough--too like himself, inclined to be pompous. However, I must keep to the principle of ‘Suggestion’ with him--keep him from seeing what he is running his head into--the girl too.” And the High Priest went away to matins, and thought calmly and seriously about the friendship with a woman--innocently too, with the marvellous self-confidence in temptation of some of the spiritually great. After all, women were sympathetic and kindly--there was something in the plan, but then he didn’t understand the plan, he only felt it. CHAPTER X It was breakfast-time, and Alice said to Marigold: “Will you be going to see the little cripple to-day, Princess?” “Of course. I want to see what he thought of you and the jelly. He told me I had a lovely face. I like little boys so much better than full-grown men. They always look as if they meant exactly what they say.” “I notice, Princess, that anything in the line of a compliment always pleases you.” “Of course, Alice, you spiteful bitter-sweet! Especially when the compliment hits so near the truth. I’m sure he would have made a fine soldier had he lived and not been crippled. It takes a brave man to tell you in simple, straightforward language that you’re beautiful. Good-bye, dear, and cook a nice dinner, for perhaps I’ll ask him in.” So Marigold ran away into the next house, and a sunbeam got entangled in her hair and couldn’t get out again, so played about there all the morning. “Patches, I’ve come to see you. I’ve brought a few grapes this time to pay my entrance fee.” She noticed the spiritless, sad little face light up as she entered, and the quick, delicate colour mount to his cheeks. “Mother liked the plum-cake very much, thank you, and she guessed Dr Quack and the district visitor. But--but I’d rather you didn’t bring the cake and things. I haven’t anything to give you back, neither has mother. If you would come now and again just to--to--to sing, I would like it best of anything.” Marigold sat down and laid her soft cheek against his hand as it lay on the chair-arm. “I’ll come sometimes without bringing anything, Patches; but when we have them, I might as well bring them. Grapes will be good for you, dear.”