"Huh?" asked the dentist, puzzled. "What did you say?"
"I won't give you any money--never again--not a cent."
"But do you know that I'm hungry?"
"Well, I've been hungry myself. Besides, I DON'T believe you."
"Trina, I ain't had a thing to eat since yesterday morning; that's God's
truth. Even if I did get off with your money, you CAN'T see me starve,
can you? You can't see me walk the streets all night because I ain't got
a place to sleep. Will you let me in? Say, will you? Huh?"
"No."
"Well, will you give me some money then--just a little? Give me a
dollar. Give me half a dol--Say, give me a DIME, an' I can get a cup of
coffee."
"No."
The dentist paused and looked at her with curious intentness,
bewildered, nonplussed.
"Say, you--you must be crazy, Trina. I--I--wouldn't let a DOG go
hungry."
"Not even if he'd bitten you, perhaps."
The dentist stared again.
There was another pause. McTeague looked up at her in silence, a
mean and vicious twinkle coming into his small eyes. He uttered a low
exclamation, and then checked himself.
"Well, look here, for the last time. I'm starving. I've got nowhere to
sleep. Will you give me some money, or something to eat? Will you let me
in?"
"No--no--no.
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