"
"Buy a ticket," urged Maria, thrusting the bundle toward Trina. "Try
your luck. The butcher on the next block won twenty dollars the last
drawing."
Very uneasy, Trina bought a ticket for the sake of being rid of her.
Maria disappeared.
"Ain't she a queer bird?" muttered Marcus. He was much embarrassed and
disturbed because he had not bought the ticket for Trina.
But there was a sudden movement. McTeague had just finished with Miss
Baker.
"You should notice," the dressmaker said to the dentist, in a low voice,
"he always leaves the door a little ajar in the afternoon." When she had
gone out, Marcus Schouler brought Trina forward.
"Say, Mac, this is my cousin, Trina Sieppe." The two shook hands dumbly,
McTeague slowly nodding his huge head with its great shock of yellow
hair. Trina was very small and prettily made. Her face was round and
rather pale; her eyes long and narrow and blue, like the half-open eyes
of a little baby; her lips and the lobes of her tiny ears were pale, a
little suggestive of anaemia; while across the bridge of her nose ran
an adorable little line of freckles. But it was to her hair that one's
attention was most attracted. Heaps and heaps of blue-black coils and
braids, a royal crown of swarthy bands, a veritable sable tiara, heavy,
abundant, odorous.
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