But don't notice it further: I wished to punish her sauciness, that's all.

I like her too well, my dear Heathcliff, to let you absolutely seize and devour her up.' 'And I like her too ill to attempt it,' said he, 'except in a very ghoulish fashion.

You'd hear of odd things if I lived alone with that mawkish, waxen face: the most ordinary would be painting on its white the colours of the rainbow, and turning the blue eyes black, every day or two: they detestably resemble Linton's.' 'Delectably!' observed Catherine.

'They are dove's eyes--angel's!' 'She's her brother's heir, is she not ?' he asked, after a brief silence.
'I should be sorry to think so,' returned his companion.

'Half a dozen nephews shall erase her title, please heaven! Abstract your mind from the subject at present: you are too prone to covet your neighbour's goods; remember _this_ neighbour's goods are mine.' 'If they were _mine_, they would be none the less that,' said Heathcliff; 'but though Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcely mad; and, in short, we'll dismiss the matter, as you advise.' From their tongues they did dismiss it; and Catherine, probably, from her thoughts.