"Stay to rest yourself," he replied. "And, Catherine, don't think or say that I'm _very_ unwell: it is the heavy weather and heat that make me dull; and I walked about, before you came, a great deal for me. Tell uncle I'm in tolerable health, will you?"
"I'll tell him that _you_ say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you are," observed my young lady, wondering at his pertinacious assertion of what was evidently an untruth.
"And be here again next Thursday," continued he, shunning her puzzled gaze. "And give him my thanks for permitting you to come-my best thanks, Catherine. And-and, if you _did_ meet my father, and he asked you about me, don't lead him to suppose that I've been extremely silent and stupid: don't look sad and downcast, as you are doing-he'll be angry."
"I care nothing for his anger," exclaimed Cathy, imagining she would be its object.

'Stay to rest,' he replied. 'It is the heat that make me dull; and I walked about a great deal before you came. Tell uncle I'm in good health, will you?'
'I'll tell him that you say so, Linton. I couldn't affirm that you are,' observed my young lady.
'And be here again next Thursday,' continued he. 'And thank him for permitting you to come. And - and, if you did meet my father, and he asked you about me, don't tell him I've been silent and stupid - he'll be angry.'
'I care nothing for his anger,' exclaimed Cathy.
