He stepped back three paces, and
stood planted upon one of his chalk marks, his face glistening with
perspiration.
Then Trina and the dentist were married. The guests stood in constrained
attitudes, looking furtively out of the corners of their eyes. Mr.
Sieppe never moved a muscle; Mrs. Sieppe cried into her handkerchief
all the time. At the melodeon Selina played "Call Me Thine Own," very
softly, the tremulo stop pulled out. She looked over her shoulder from
time to time. Between the pauses of the music one could hear the low
tones of the minister, the responses of the participants, and the
suppressed sounds of Mrs. Sieppe's weeping. Outside the noises of the
street rose to the windows in muffled undertones, a cable car rumbled
past, a newsboy went by chanting the evening papers; from somewhere in
the building itself came a persistent noise of sawing.
Trina and McTeague knelt. The dentist's knees thudded on the floor and
he presented to view the soles of his shoes, painfully new and unworn,
the leather still yellow, the brass nail heads still glittering. Trina
sank at his side very gracefully, setting her dress and train with a
little gesture of her free hand. The company bowed their heads, Mr.
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