“No one will ever take me away from you,” she answered sturdily. “My business in life is to look after you, for you don’t seem able to look after yourself, and I’ll do it to the best of my ability.” “But I am going to turn over a new leaf. I am going to do nothing but nurse little Patches.” “Serpent be praised!” said Alice. “I knew that whim of yours about the great High Priest would never last.” Marigold gave a movement of pain, though she laughed immediately after. “Yes, it was very silly of me. I believe now I’ve taken a fancy to his friend.” “The one with the black eyes?” “Yes. Alice, he has the most beautiful voice I ever heard.” “So has Dr Quack. On my word I never remember noticing the difference between one voice and another till I heard his.” “_Mine_, Alice?” “I mean Men’s voices. Was the High Priest’s friend very gracious to you then?” “He made me feel that to sin in my position, and with my beauty, was in reality no sin at all.” “The wicked man!” “He doesn’t like Dr Quack for some reason or other--that is why he said it.” “And did you listen to him?” “No. I ran away. If I had stayed any longer I would have done as he advised me.” “How?” “Oh! I--I would have hated and suspected the doctor even more strongly than I do. He told me he was jealous of me. Just what I said myself last night. And it is not good, Alice, to hate any one. If he is rude to me--and he has been--I have at least dignity enough left in me to forgive him. I may appear frivolous and vain and foolish on the surface, Alice; but oh! great Serpent! I am not underneath. It is because I feel so much that I laugh and act continually to hide it.” “No one but a simpleton would ever take you for anything but an angel.” “Don’t, Alice!” she answered in real distress. “Any one hearing you would think you wanted your salary raised.” “I think I’ll finish the dress, Princess, this afternoon. I’ll soon run it up with the machine now. You take your lute and play for Patches. He’s fairly gone upon your singing.” “Yes. I’ll go and sing for him then, for I don’t understand the machining.” And with that she went upstairs to her own room. But it was some time before Marigold came down again--for every struggling passion, good and evil, seemed let loose in her. A hundred times, with a burning feeling of eclipse and failure, she saw the High Priest walk away, forgetting her, the beggar girl who had smiled, and given him a greater intimacy than ever any man before. Again she heard the doctor’s laugh--that light insolence that galled her spirit to the quick, and called up all the long centuries of fighting pride that mingled with her blood.