Wuthering Heights

cannot be worked into a fever: your veins are full of ice-water; but
mine are boiling, and the sight of such chillness makes them dance.”

“To get rid of me, answer my question,” persevered Mr. Linton. “You
_must_ answer it; and that violence does not alarm me. I have found
that you can be as stoical as anyone, when you please. Will you give up
Heathcliff hereafter, or will you give up me? It is impossible for you
to be _my_ friend and _his_ at the same time; and I absolutely
_require_ to know which you choose.”

“I require to be let alone!” exclaimed Catherine, furiously. “I demand
it! Don’t you see I can scarcely stand? Edgar, you—you leave me!”

She rang the bell till it broke with a twang; I entered leisurely. It
was enough to try the temper of a saint, such senseless, wicked rages!
There she lay dashing her head against the arm of the sofa, and
grinding her teeth, so that you might fancy she would crash them to
splinters! Mr. Linton stood looking at her in sudden compunction and
fear. He told me to fetch some water. She had no breath for speaking. I
brought a glass full; and as she would not drink, I sprinkled it on her
face. In a few seconds she stretched herself out stiff, and turned up