" He went out, slamming the door in disgust.
But McTeague never became a drunkard in the generally received sense of
the term. He did not drink to excess more than two or three times in a
month, and never upon any occasion did he become maudlin or staggering.
Perhaps his nerves were naturally too dull to admit of any excitation;
perhaps he did not really care for the whiskey, and only drank because
Heise and the other men at Frenna's did. Trina could often reproach
him with drinking too much; she never could say that he was drunk. The
alcohol had its effect for all that. It roused the man, or rather the
brute in the man, and now not only roused it, but goaded it to evil.
McTeague's nature changed. It was not only the alcohol, it was idleness
and a general throwing off of the good influence his wife had had over
him in the days of their prosperity. McTeague disliked Trina. She was a
perpetual irritation to him. She annoyed him because she was so small,
so prettily made, so invariably correct and precise. Her avarice
incessantly harassed him. Her industry was a constant reproach to him.
She seemed to flaunt her work defiantly in his face. It was the red
flag in the eyes of the bull.
Pages:
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366