Wuthering Heights

Meanwhile, the young man had slung on to his person a decidedly shabby
upper garment, and, erecting himself before the blaze, looked down on
me from the corner of his eyes, for all the world as if there were some
mortal feud unavenged between us. I began to doubt whether he were a
servant or not: his dress and speech were both rude, entirely devoid of
the superiority observable in Mr. and Mrs. Heathcliff; his thick brown
curls were rough and uncultivated, his whiskers encroached bearishly
over his cheeks, and his hands were embrowned like those of a common
labourer: still his bearing was free, almost haughty, and he showed
none of a domestic’s assiduity in attending on the lady of the house.
In the absence of clear proofs of his condition, I deemed it best to
abstain from noticing his curious conduct; and, five minutes
afterwards, the entrance of Heathcliff relieved me, in some measure,
from my uncomfortable state.

“You see, sir, I am come, according to promise!” I exclaimed, assuming
the cheerful; “and I fear I shall be weather-bound for half an hour, if
you can afford me shelter during that space.”

“Half an hour?” he said, shaking the white flakes from his clothes; “I