Ah, no,
better let things go, and take it as easy as you could. Hump your back,
and it was soonest over.
The one room grew abominably dirty, reeking with the odors of cooking
and of "non-poisonous" paint. The bed was not made until late in the
afternoon, sometimes not at all. Dirty, unwashed crockery, greasy
knives, sodden fragments of yesterday's meals cluttered the table, while
in one corner was the heap of evil-smelling, dirty linen. Cockroaches
appeared in the crevices of the woodwork, the wall-paper bulged from the
damp walls and began to peel. Trina had long ago ceased to dust or to
wipe the furniture with a bit of rag. The grime grew thick upon the
window panes and in the corners of the room. All the filth of the alley
invaded their quarters like a rising muddy tide.
Between the windows, however, the faded photograph of the couple in
their wedding finery looked down upon the wretchedness, Trina still
holding her set bouquet straight before her, McTeague standing at her
side, his left foot forward, in the attitude of a Secretary of State;
while near by hung the canary, the one thing the dentist clung to
obstinately, piping and chittering all day in its little gilt prison.
Pages:
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400