flat in the half hour after midnight the two old people
"kept company," enjoying after their fashion their little romance that
had come so late into the lives of each.

On the way to her room in the garret Maria Macapa paused under the
single gas-jet that burned at the top of the well of the staircase; she
assured herself that she was alone, and then drew from her pocket one of
McTeague's "tapes" of non-cohesive gold. It was the most valuable steal
she had ever yet made in the dentist's "Parlors." She told herself that
it was worth at least a couple of dollars. Suddenly an idea occurred
to her, and she went hastily to a window at the end of the hall, and,
shading her face with both hands, looked down into the little alley just
back of the flat. On some nights Zerkow, the red-headed Polish Jew, sat
up late, taking account of the week's ragpicking. There was a dim light
in his window now.

Maria went to her room, threw a shawl around her head, and descended
into the little back yard of the flat by the back stairs. As she let
herself out of the back gate into the alley, Alexander, Marcus's Irish
setter, woke suddenly with a gruff bark. The collie who lived on the
other side of the fence, in the back yard of the branch post-office,
answered with a snarl. Then in an instant the endless feud between
the two dogs was resumed. They dragged their respective kennels to the
fence, and through the cracks raged at each other in a frenzy of hate;
their teeth snapped and gleamed; the hackles on their backs rose and
stiffened. Their hideous clamor could have been heard for blocks around.
What a massacre should the two ever meet!

Meanwhile, Maria was knocking at Zerkow's miserable hovel.

"Who is it? Who is it?" cried the rag-picker from within, in his hoarse
voice, that was half whisper, starting nervously, and sweeping a handful
of silver into his drawer.

"It's me, Maria Macapa;" then in a lower voice, and as if speaking to
herself, "had a flying squirrel an' let him go."

"Ah, Maria," cried Zerkow, obsequiously opening the door. "Come in, come
in, my girl; you're always welcome, even as late as this. No junk, hey?
But you're welcome for all that. You'll have a drink, won't you?" He led
her into his back room and got down the whiskey bottle and the broken
red tumbler.

After the two had drunk together Maria produced the gold "tape."
Zerkow's eyes glittered on the instant. The sight of gold invariably
sent a qualm all through