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Sometimes they would look at Mars or at the moon through the street telescopes or sit for a time in the rotunda of a vast department store where a band played every evening. Occasionally they met Heise the harness-maker and his wife, with whom they had become acquainted. Then the evening was concluded by a four-cornered party in the Luxembourg, a quiet German restaurant under a theatre.
"We brought it for the beer; and take the napkins and make a bandage." "Ice," muttered the dentist, "sure, ice, that's the word." Mrs. Heise and the Ryers were looking after Marcus's broken arm. Selina sat on the slope of the grass, gasping and sobbing. Trina tore the napkins into strips, and, crushing some of the ice, made a bandage for her husband's head.
"No, no," answered McTeague, shaking his head. "I'm going back home. I've had two glasses of whiskey already." "Sha!" cried Heise, catching his arm. "A strapping big chap like you ain't afraid of a little whiskey." "Well, I I I got to go right afterwards," protested McTeague. About half an hour after the dentist had left to go down town, Maria Macapa had come in to see Trina.
The wild-game peddler, a woman who had been washing down the steps in a neighboring house, and a man in a broad-brimmed hat stood at Zerkow's doorway, looking in from time to time, and talking together. They seemed puzzled. "Anything wrong in here?" asked the wild-game peddler as Heise and Trina came up. Two more men stopped on the corner of the alley and Polk Street and looked at the group.
The dentist stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder, the other thrust into the breast of his "Prince Albert," his chin in the air, his eyes to one side, his left foot forward in the attitude of a statue of a Secretary of State. "Say, Trina," said McTeague, his mouth full of codfish, "Heise looked in on me this morning.
When he spoke of a bunch of parsley as "scenery," Heise all but strangled himself over a mouthful of potato. Out in the kitchen Maria Macapa did the work of three, her face scarlet, her sleeves rolled up; every now and then she uttered shrill but unintelligible outcries, supposedly addressed to the waiter. "Uncle Oelbermann," said Trina, "let me give you another helping of prunes."
Heise the harness-maker stood in the vestibule of his shop, a bundle of whittlings in his apron of greasy ticking. And all this was going on, people were laughing and living, buying and selling, walking about out there on the sunny sidewalks, while behind her in there in there in there
You'll get your death-a-cold if you stand round soaked like that. Two whiskey and gum, Joe." McTeague emptied the pony glass at a single enormous gulp. "That's the way," said Heise, approvingly. "Do you good." He drank his off slowly.
"LORD!" ejaculated Heise, stopping a yard or so from the body, and bending down to peer into the gray face with its brown lips. "By God! he's killed her." "Who?" "Zerkow, by God! he's killed her. Cut her throat. He always said he would." "Zerkow?" "He's killed her. Her throat's cut. Good Lord, how she did bleed! By God! he's done for her in good shape this time."
Then McTeague would return to Polk Street and find Heise in the back room of the harness shop, and occasionally the day ended with some half dozen drinks of whiskey at Joe Frenna's saloon. It was curious to note the effect of the alcohol upon the dentist. It did not make him drunk, it made him vicious.
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