But Linton and I have no share in your quarrel.

I'll not come here, then; he shall come to the Grange.' 'It will be too far for me,' murmured her cousin: 'to walk four miles would kill me.

No, come here, Miss Catherine, now and then: not every morning, but once or twice a week.' The father launched towards his son a glance of bitter contempt.
'I am afraid, Nelly, I shall lose my labour,' he muttered to me.

'Miss Catherine, as the ninny calls her, will discover his value, and send him to the devil.

Now, if it had been Hareton!--Do you know that, twenty times a day, I covet Hareton, with all his degradation?
I'd have loved the lad had he been some one else.