"It ain't
possible they'll make you stop. If you're a good dentist, that's all
that's wanted. Go on, Mac; hurry, before he goes."
McTeague went out, closing the door. Trina stood for a moment looking
intently at the bricks at her feet. Then she returned to the table,
and sat down again before the notice, and, resting her head in both her
fists, read it yet another time. Suddenly the conviction seized upon her
that it was all true. McTeague would be obliged to stop work, no matter
how good a dentist he was. But why had the authorities at the City Hall
waited this long before serving the notice? All at once Trina snapped
her fingers, with a quick flash of intelligence.
"It's Marcus that's done it," she cried.
* * * * *
It was like a clap of thunder. McTeague was stunned, stupefied. He said
nothing. Never in his life had he been so taciturn. At times he did not
seem to hear Trina when she spoke to him, and often she had to shake
him by the shoulder to arouse his attention. He would sit apart in his
"Parlors," turning the notice about in his enormous clumsy fingers,
reading it stupidly over and over again. He couldn't understand. What
had a clerk at the City Hall to do with him? Why couldn't they let him
alone?
"Oh, what's to become of us NOW?" wailed Trina.
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