"
"You got no RIGHT to talk to me that way. I won't let you. I--I won't
have it." She caught her breath. Tears were in her eyes.
"Oh, live where you like, then," said McTeague, sullenly.
"Well, shall we take this room then?"
"All right, we'll take it. But why can't you take a little of your money
an'--an'--sort of fix it up?"
"Not a penny, not a single penny."
"Oh, I don't care WHAT you do." And for the rest of the day the dentist
and his wife did not speak.
This was not the only quarrel they had during these days when they were
occupied in moving from their suite and in looking for new quarters.
Every hour the question of money came up. Trina had become more
niggardly than ever since the loss of McTeague's practice. It was not
mere economy with her now. It was a panic terror lest a fraction of a
cent of her little savings should be touched; a passionate eagerness
to continue to save in spite of all that had happened. Trina could have
easily afforded better quarters than the single whitewashed room at the
top of the flat, but she made McTeague believe that it was impossible.
"I can still save a little," she said to herself, after the room had
been engaged; "perhaps almost as much as ever.
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