" She heaved a great sigh of relief as a heavy
tread sounded in the hallway below. She ran to the banisters, looking
over, and calling, "Oh, Mac! Is that you, Mac?" It was the German whose
family occupied the lower floor. The power-house clock struck nine.
"My God, where is Mac?" cried Trina, stamping her foot.
She put the shawl over her head again, and went out and stood on the
corner of the alley and Polk Street, watching and waiting, craning her
neck to see down the street. Once, even, she went out upon the sidewalk
in front of the flat and sat down for a moment upon the horse-block
there. She could not help remembering the day when she had been driven
up to that horse-block in a hack. Her mother and father and Owgooste and
the twins were with her. It was her wedding day. Her wedding dress was
in a huge tin trunk on the driver's seat. She had never been happier
before in all her life. She remembered how she got out of the hack
and stood for a moment upon the horse-block, looking up at McTeague's
windows. She had caught a glimpse of him at his shaving, the lather
still on his cheek, and they had waved their hands at each other.
Instinctively Trina looked up at the flat behind her; looked up at the
bay window where her husband's "Dental Parlors" had been.
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