" Trina's stinginess had increased to such an extent that it
had gone beyond the mere hoarding of money. She grudged even the food
that she and McTeague ate, and even brought away half loaves of bread,
lumps of sugar, and fruit from the car conductors' coffee-joint. She hid
these pilferings away on the shelf by the window, and often managed
to make a very creditable lunch from them, enjoying the meal with the
greater relish because it cost her nothing.
"No, Maria, I haven't got a bit of tea," she said, shaking her head
decisively. "Hark, ain't that Mac?" she added, her chin in the air.
"That's his step, sure."
"Well, I'm going to skip," said Maria. She left hurriedly, passing
the dentist in the hall just outside the door. "Well?" said Trina
interrogatively as her husband entered. McTeague did not answer. He hung
his hat on the hook behind the door and dropped heavily into a chair.
"Well," asked Trina, anxiously, "how did you make out, Mac?"
Still the dentist pretended not to hear, scowling fiercely at his muddy
boots.
"Tell me, Mac, I want to know. Did you get a place? Did you get caught
in the rain?"
"Did I? Did I?" cried the dentist, sharply, an alacrity in his manner
and voice that Trina had never observed before.
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