"And what are you?" inquired Catherine, 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 of 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."

'Who are you? That man I've seen before. Is he your son?'
She pointed to Hareton, who was bigger and stronger than two years previously, but seemed as awkward and rough as ever.
'Miss Cathy,' I interrupted, 'we really must go back.'
