Hareton responded, and presently the two re-entered.

The young man had been washing himself, as was visible by the glow on his cheeks and his wetted hair.
'Oh, I'll ask _you_, uncle,' cried Miss Cathy, recollecting the housekeeper's assertion.

'That is not my cousin, is he ?' 'Yes,' he, replied, 'your mother's nephew.

Don't you like him!' Catherine looked queer.
'Is he not a handsome lad ?' he continued.
The uncivil little thing stood on tiptoe, and whispered a sentence in Heathcliff's ear.

He laughed; Hareton darkened: I perceived he was very sensitive to suspected slights, and had obviously a dim notion of his inferiority.