assist him in counting his gold.
'I don't want your help,' she snapped; 'I can get them for myself.'
'I beg your pardon!' I hastened to reply.
'Were you asked to tea?' she demanded, tying an apron over her neat black frock, and standing with a spoonful of the leaf poised over the pot.
'I shall be glad to have a cup,' I answered.
'Were you asked?' she repeated.
'No,' I said, half smiling. 'You are the proper person to ask me.'
She flung the tea back, spoon and all, and resumed her chair in a pet; her forehead corrugated, and her red under-lip pushed out, like a child's ready to cry.
Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of the superiority observab
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I did not at all like. The author was determined to make every single thing in the novel a tragedy. She kills almost every character present in starting. And, there is no love or love story. Very rough and cruel. And most importantly tough of literature is not there.
'Branwell Bronte's Tale' available free on Kindle
It's unfairly characterized as a love story - it's really a hate story: hate and revenge; and what Heathcliff feels for Cathy is more of an unstoppable obsession that makes him gloat in the destruction of anyone who stood between him and her.
I keep coming back to this one, because the depth of emotion in the characters makes many passages a joy to read again and again.
One of the extra-ordinary book ever written, and only one of Emily Bronte.