I'm not angry that you struck me.

Have you never loved _anybody_ in all your life, uncle?
_never_?
Ah! you must look once.

I'm so wretched, you can't help being sorry and pitying me.' 'Keep your eft's fingers off; and move, or I'll kick you!' cried Heathcliff, brutally repulsing her.

'I'd rather be hugged by a snake.
How the devil can you dream of fawning on me?
I _detest_ you!' He shrugged his shoulders: shook himself, indeed, as if his flesh crept with aversion; and thrust back his chair; while I got up, and opened my mouth, to commence a downright torrent of abuse.

But I was rendered dumb in the middle of the first sentence, by a threat that I should be shown into a room by myself the very next syllable I uttered.