"Whiskey? No, I can't drink whiskey. It kind
of disagrees with me."
"Oh, the hell!" returned Heise, easily. "Take it as medicine. You'll get
your death-a-cold if you stand round soaked like that. Two whiskey and
gum, Joe."
McTeague emptied the pony glass at a single enormous gulp.
"That's the way," said Heise, approvingly. "Do you good." He drank his
off slowly.
"I'd--I'd ask you to have a drink with me, Heise," said the dentist, who
had an indistinct idea of the amenities of the barroom, "only," he added
shamefacedly, "only--you see, I don't believe I got any change." His
anger against Trina, heated by the whiskey he had drank, flamed up
afresh. What a humiliating position for Trina to place him in, not to
leave him the price of a drink with a friend, she who had five thousand
dollars!
"Sha! That's all right, Doc," returned Heise, nibbling on a grain of
coffee. "Want another? Hey? This my treat. Two more of the same, Joe."
McTeague hesitated. It was lamentably true that whiskey did not agree
with him; he knew it well enough. However, by this time he felt very
comfortably warm at the pit of his stomach. The blood was beginning to
circulate in his chilled finger-tips and in his soggy, wet feet.
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