" The two women
had chatted over their teacups the better part of the afternoon, then
Trina had returned to her rooms. For nearly three hours McTeague had
been out of her thoughts, and as she came through their little
suite, singing softly to herself, she suddenly came upon him quite
unexpectedly. Her husband was in the "Dental Parlors," lying back in his
operating chair, fast asleep. The little stove was crammed with coke,
the room was overheated, the air thick and foul with the odors of ether,
of coke gas, of stale beer and cheap tobacco. The dentist sprawled his
gigantic limbs over the worn velvet of the operating chair; his coat and
vest and shoes were off, and his huge feet, in their thick gray socks,
dangled over the edge of the foot-rest; his pipe, fallen from his
half-open mouth, had spilled the ashes into his lap; while on the floor,
at his side stood the half-empty pitcher of steam beer. His head had
rolled limply upon one shoulder, his face was red with sleep, and from
his open mouth came a terrific sound of snoring.
For a moment Trina stood looking at him as he lay thus, prone, inert,
half-dressed, and stupefied with the heat of the room, the steam beer,
and the fumes of the cheap tobacco.
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