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The dentist sat there leaning on his elbows, his back toward her; against the white blur of the table he looked colossal. Above his giant shoulders rose his thick, red neck and mane of yellow hair. The light shone pink through the gristle of his enormous ears. Trina entered the bedroom, closing the door after her. At the sound, she heard McTeague start and rise. "Is that you, Trina?"
Trina burst in upon her mother while the latter was setting a mousetrap in the kitchen. "Oh, mamma!" "Eh? Trina? Ach, what has happun?" Trina told her in a breath. "Soh soon?" was Mrs. Sieppe's first comment. "Eh, well, what you cry for, then?" "I don't know," wailed Trina, plucking at the end of her handkerchief. "You loaf der younge doktor?" "I don't know." "Well, what for you kiss him?"
Trina could scarcely address her a simple direction without Augustine quailing and shrinking; a reproof, however gentle, threw her into an agony of confusion; while Trina's anger promptly reduced her to a state of nervous collapse, wherein she lost all power of speech, while her head began to bob and nod with an incontrollable twitching of the muscles, much like the oscillations of the head of a toy donkey.
The fury in him was as the fury of a young bull in the heat of high summer. But for all that he shook his huge head from time to time, muttering: "No, by God! No, by God!" Dimly he seemed to realize that should he yield now he would never be able to care for Trina again. She would never be the same to him, never so radiant, so sweet, so adorable; her charm for him would vanish in an instant.
"I can play on the concertina." "Oh, can you? I wish you'd brought it along. Next time you will. I hope you'll come often on our picnics. You'll see what fun we'll have." "Fine day for a picnic, ain't it? There ain't a cloud." "That's so," exclaimed Trina, looking up, "not a single cloud. Oh, yes; there is one, just over Telegraph Hill." "That's smoke." "No, it's a cloud.
As soon as he heard her come in, he laid down the plaster-of-paris mould he was making and went out into the kitchen and found her chopping up onions. "Well, Trina," he said, "we got that house. I've taken it." "What do you mean?" she answered, quickly. The dentist told her. "And you signed a paper for the first month's rent?" "Sure, sure. That's business, you know."
Perhaps Maria'll marry him because it's her only chance to get a husband, but I'm sure it's more for the reason that she's got some one to talk to now who believes her story. Don't you think I'm right?" "Yes, yes, I guess you're right," admitted Miss Baker. "But it's a queer match anyway you put it," said Trina, musingly. "Ah, you may well say that," returned the other, nodding her head.
After lunch the men took themselves off to the rifle range, while Selina, Trina, and the other two women put away the dishes. An hour later the men joined them in great spirits. Ryer had won the impromptu match which they had arranged, making quite a wonderful score, which included three clean bulls' eyes, while McTeague had not been able even to hit the target itself.
The little court below was bright with moonlight, and standing just on the edge of the shadow thrown by one of the cherry trees was McTeague. A bunch of half-ripe cherries was in his hand. He was eating them and throwing the pits at the window. As he caught sight of her, he made an eager sign for her to raise the sash. Reluctant and wondering, Trina obeyed, and the dentist came quickly forward.
Trina even humbled herself to ask of the Ryers with whom they had quarrelled if they knew anything of the dentist's whereabouts, but received a contemptuous negative. "Maybe he's come in while I've been out," said Trina to herself. She went down Polk Street again, going towards the flat. The rain had stopped, but the sidewalks were still glistening.
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