And to tell the truth, no sort of self-gratification could balance for a moment in Daisy's mind the thought of Molly's wearing a crown of gold in heaven.

That crown of gold was before Daisy's eyes; nothing else was worth a thought in comparison.
"Are you going to see that wretched old being ?" said Preston at last.
"Yes." "Daisy--dear Daisy--I do not know what to do with you.

Do you like, is it possible that you can like, dirt and vulgarity ?" "I don't think I do," Daisy said gently; "but Preston, I like the poor _people_." "You do!" said Preston.

"Then it is manifest that you cannot like me." And he dashed spurs into his horse and sprung away, with a grace and life that kept Daisy looking after him in admiration, and a plain mood of displeasure which cast its shadow all over her spirit.
"Here is the trowel, Miss Daisy." Her messenger had come back, and Daisy recalled to the business in hand took up her reins again and drove on; but she felt deeply grieved.

Now and then her gauntleted hand even went up to her face to brush away a tear that had gathered.