"My poor dear child," cried Miss Crawley, who was always quite ready to be sentimental, "is our passion unrequited, then? Are we pining in secret? Tell me all, and let me console you."

"My poor dear child," cried Miss Crawley, who was always ready to be sentimental, "is our passion unrequited, then? Are we pining in secret? Tell me all, and let me console you."
