Sieppe had yet heard of any one with whom he, Marcus, could "go
in with on a ranch." McTeague, Marcus merely nodded to. Never had the
quarrel between the two men been completely patched up. It did not seem
possible to the dentist now that Marcus had ever been his "pal," that
they had ever taken long walks together. He was sorry that he had
treated Marcus gratis for an ulcerated tooth, while Marcus daily
recalled the fact that he had given up his "girl" to his friend--the
girl who had won a fortune--as the great mistake of his life. Only
once since the wedding had he called upon Trina, at a time when he knew
McTeague would be out. Trina had shown him through the rooms and had
told him, innocently enough, how gay was their life there. Marcus had
come away fairly sick with envy; his rancor against the dentist--and
against himself, for that matter--knew no bounds. "And you might 'a' had
it all yourself, Marcus Schouler," he muttered to himself on the stairs.
"You mushhead, you damn fool!"
Meanwhile, Marcus was becoming involved in the politics of his ward. As
secretary of the Polk Street Improvement Club--which soon developed
into quite an affair and began to assume the proportions of a Republican
political machine--he found he could make a little, a very little more
than enough to live on.
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