"We brought it
for the beer; and take the napkins and make a bandage."
"Ice," muttered the dentist, "sure, ice, that's the word."
Mrs. Heise and the Ryers were looking after Marcus's broken arm. Selina
sat on the slope of the grass, gasping and sobbing. Trina tore the
napkins into strips, and, crushing some of the ice, made a bandage for
her husband's head.'
The party resolved itself into two groups; the Ryers and Mrs. Heise
bending over Marcus, while the harness-maker and Trina came and went
about McTeague, sitting on the ground, his shirt, a mere blur of red
and white, detaching itself violently from the background of pale-green
grass. Between the two groups was the torn and trampled bit of turf, the
wrestling ring; the picnic baskets, together with empty beer bottles,
broken egg-shells, and discarded sardine tins, were scattered here and
there. In the middle of the improvised wrestling ring the sleeve of
Marcus's shirt fluttered occasionally in the sea breeze.
Nobody was paying any attention to Selina. All at once she began to
giggle hysterically again, then cried out with a peal of laughter:
"Oh, what a way for our picnic to end!"
CHAPTER 12
"Now, then, Maria," said Zerkow, his cracked, strained voice just rising
above a whisper, hitching his chair closer to the table, "now, then, my
girl, let's have it all over again.
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