"Like him!" I exclaimed. "The worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled into its teens. Happily, as Mr. Heathcliff conjectured, he'll not win twenty. I doubt whether he'll see spring, indeed. And small loss to his family whenever he drops off. And lucky it is for us that his father took him: the kinder he was treated, the more tedious and selfish he'd be. I'm glad you have no chance of having him for a husband, Miss Catherine."
My companion waxed serious at hearing this speech. To speak of his death so regardlessly wounded her feelings.

'Like him!' I exclaimed. 'The worst-tempered bit of a sickly slip that ever struggled into its teens! Happily, as Mr. Heathcliff guessed, he'll not reach twenty. I doubt whether he'll see spring, indeed. And small loss to his family, so tedious and selfish he is. I'm glad you have no chance of having him for a husband, Miss Catherine.'
My companion grew serious at hearing this speech.
