With each concession gained the man's
desire cools; with every surrender made the woman's adoration increases.
But why should it be so?
Trina wrenched herself free and drew back from McTeague, her little
chin quivering; her face, even to the lobes of her pale ears, flushed
scarlet; her narrow blue eyes brimming. Suddenly she put her head
between her hands and began to sob.
"Say, say, Miss Trina, listen--listen here, Miss Trina," cried McTeague,
coming forward a step.
"Oh, don't!" she gasped, shrinking. "I must go home," she cried,
springing to her feet. "It's late. I must. I must. Don't come with
me, please. Oh, I'm so--so,"--she could not find any words. "Let me go
alone," she went on. "You may--you come Sunday. Good-by."
"Good-by," said McTeague, his head in a whirl at this sudden,
unaccountable change. "Can't I kiss you again?" But Trina was firm now.
When it came to his pleading--a mere matter of words--she was strong
enough.
"No, no, you must not!" she exclaimed, with energy. She was gone in
another instant. The dentist, stunned, bewildered, gazed stupidly after
her as she ran up the extension of B Street through the rain.
But suddenly a great joy took possession of him.
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