"Give me my money, the money I gave you as I was going away."
"I can't," exclaimed Trina. "I paid the grocer's bill with it while you
were gone."
"Don't believe you."
"Truly, truly, Mac. Do you think I'd lie to you? Do you think I'd lower
myself to do that?"
"Well, the next time I earn any money I'll keep it myself."
"But tell me, Mac, DID you get a place?"
McTeague turned his back on her.
"Tell me, Mac, please, did you?"
The dentist jumped up and thrust his face close to hers, his heavy jaw
protruding, his little eyes twinkling meanly.
"No," he shouted. "No, no, NO. Do you hear? NO."
Trina cowered before him. Then suddenly she began to sob aloud, weeping
partly at his strange brutality, partly at the disappointment of his
failure to find employment.
McTeague cast a contemptuous glance about him, a glance that embraced
the dingy, cheerless room, the rain streaming down the panes of the one
window, and the figure of his weeping wife.
"Oh, ain't this all FINE?" he exclaimed. "Ain't it lovely?"
"It's not my fault," sobbed Trina.
"It is too," vociferated McTeague. "It is too. We could live like
Christians and decent people if you wanted to.
Pages:
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357