"Among his books!" she cried, confounded. "And I dying! I on the brink of the grave! My God! does he know how I'm altered?" continued she, staring at her reflection in a mirror hanging against the opposite wall. "Is that Catherine Linton? He imagines me in a pet-in play, perhaps. Cannot you inform him that it is frightful earnest? 
'Among his books!' she cried. 'And I dying! My God! does he know how I'm altered? Cannot you inform him that it is frightful earnest? 