"You can't make small of me. Go out of here."
McTeague came forward a step, his great red fist clenching. The young
man fled. But half way down the stairs he paused long enough to call
back:
"You don't want to trade anything for a diploma, do you?"
McTeague and his wife exchanged looks.
"How did he know?" exclaimed Trina, sharply. They had invented and
spread the fiction that McTeague was merely retiring from business,
without assigning any reason. But evidently every one knew the real
cause. The humiliation was complete now. Old Miss Baker confirmed their
suspicions on this point the next day. The little retired dressmaker
came down and wept with Trina over her misfortune, and did what
she could to encourage her. But she too knew that McTeague had been
forbidden by the authorities from practising. Marcus had evidently left
them no loophole of escape.
"It's just like cutting off your husband's hands, my dear," said Miss
Baker. "And you two were so happy. When I first saw you together I said,
'What a pair!'"
Old Grannis also called during this period of the breaking up of the
McTeague household.
"Dreadful, dreadful," murmured the old Englishman, his hand going
tremulously to his chin.
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