"Delectably!" observed Catherine. "They are dove's eyes-angel's!"
"She's her brother's heir, is she not?" he asked, after a brief silence.
"I should be sorry to think so," returned his companion. "Half a dozen nephews shall erase her title, please heaven! Abstract your mind from the subject at present: you are too prone to covet your neighbour's goods; remember _this_ neighbour's goods are mine."
"If they were _mine_, they would be none the less that," said Heathcliff; "but though Isabella Linton may be silly, she is scarcely mad; and, in short, we'll dismiss the matter, as you advise."

'Delectably!' observed Catherine. 'They are dove's eyes - angel's!'
'She's her brother's heir, is she not?'
'I should be sorry to think so,' she returned. 'Half a dozen nephews shall erase her title, I hope! Keep your mind off the subject: you are too prone to covet your neighbour's goods; remember this neighbour's goods are mine.'
