She bent round to look at him; he would not permit it: turning abruptly, he walked to the fireplace, where he stood, silent, with his back towards us.

Mrs.
Linton's glance followed him suspiciously: every movement woke a new sentiment in her.

After a pause and a prolonged gaze, she resumed; addressing me in accents of indignant disappointment:-- 'Oh, you see, Nelly, he would not relent a moment to keep me out of the grave.

_That_ is how I'm loved! Well, never mind.

That is not _my_ Heathcliff.