"Do you mean that you want to be
more finely attired before you make your appearance in
company?"
"No, sir," said Daisy. It struck her with a great sorrow, his
saying this. She knew her outward attire was faultless; bright
and nice as new silver was every bit of Daisy's dress, from
her smooth hair to her neat little slippers; it was all white
and clean. But the inward adorning which God looked at — in
what a state was that? Daisy felt a double pang; that Dr.
Sandford should so far mistake her as to think her full of
silly vanity, and, on the other hand, that he should so much
too well judge of her as to think her always good. The
witnessing tinge came about Daisy's eyelids again.
"Dr. Sandford, if people tell you their private affairs, of
course it is confidential?"
"Of course," said the doctor, without moving a muscle.
"Then I will tell you what I meant. I am not good. I am
dressed well enough; but I have anger in my heart."
Dr. Sandford did not say how much he was surprised; for Daisy
looked as meek as a lamb. But he was a philosopher, and
interested.
"Then I am sure you have had reason, Daisy."
"I think I had," sail Daisy, but without looking less
sorrowful.
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