gazing curiously on the speaker. "That man I've seen before. Is he your son?"
She pointed to Hareton, the other individual; who had gained nothing but increased bulk and strength by the addition two years to his age: he seemed as awkward and rough as ever.
"Miss Cathy," I interrupted, "it will be three hours instead of one, that we are out, presently. We really must go back."
"No, that man is not my son," answered Heathcliff, pushing me aside. "But I have one, and you have seen him before too; and, though your nurse is in a hurry, I think both you and she would be the better for a little rest. Will you just turn this nab of heath, and walk into my house? You'll get home earlier for the ease; and you shall receive a kind welcome."
I whispered Catherine, that she mustn't, on any account, accede to the proposal; it was entirely out of the question.
