"Is that you, Miss Linton?" he said, raising his head from the arm of the great chair, in which he reclined. "No-don't kiss me: it takes my breath. Dear me! Papa said you would call," continued he, after recovering a little from Catherine's embrace; while she stood by looking very contrite. "Will you shut the door, if you please? you left it open; and those-those _detestable_ creatures won't bring coals to the fire. It's so cold!"
I stirred up the cinders, and fetched a scuttleful myself. The invalid complained of being covered with ashes; but he had a tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill, so I did not rebuke his temper.

'Is that you, Miss Linton?' he said, raising his head from the arm of the great chair. 'No - don't kiss me: it takes my breath. Dear me! Papa said you would call. Will you shut the door, please? you left it open; and those detestable creatures won't bring coals to the fire. It's so cold!'
I fetched some coal myself. The invalid had a tiresome cough, and looked feverish and ill.
