order and
regulating the schedule of expenditure with an economy that often
bordered on positive niggardliness. It was a passion with her to save
money. In the bottom of her trunk, in the bedroom, she hid a brass
match-safe that answered the purposes of a savings bank. Each time she
added a quarter or a half dollar to the little store she laughed and
sang with a veritable childish delight; whereas, if the butcher or
milkman compelled her to pay an overcharge she was unhappy for the rest
of the day. She did not save this money for any ulterior purpose, she
hoarded instinctively, without knowing why, responding to the dentist's
remonstrances with:

"Yes, yes, I know I'm a little miser, I know it."

Trina had always been an economical little body, but it was only
since her great winning in the lottery that she had become especially
penurious. No doubt, in her fear lest their great good luck should
demoralize them and lead to habits of extravagance, she had recoiled too
far in the other direction. Never, never, never should a penny of that
miraculous fortune be spent; rather should it be added to. It was a nest
egg, a monstrous, roc-like nest egg, not so large, however, but that it
could be made larger. Already by the end of that winter Trina had begun
to make up the deficit of two hundred dollars that she had been forced
to expend on the preparations for her marriage.

McTeague, on his part, never asked himself now-a-days whether he loved
Trina the wife as much as he had loved Trina the young girl. There had
been a time when to kiss Trina, to take her in his arms, had thrilled
him from head to heel with a happiness that was beyond words; even the
smell of her wonderful odorous hair had sent a sensation of faintness
all through him. That time was long past now. Those sudden outbursts of
affection on the part of his little woman, outbursts that only increased
in vehemence the longer they lived together, puzzled rather than
pleased him. He had come to submit to them good-naturedly, answering
her passionate inquiries with a "Sure, sure, Trina, sure I love you.
What--what's the matter with you?"

There was no passion in the dentist's regard for his wife. He dearly
liked to have her near him, he took an enormous pleasure in watching her
as she moved about their rooms, very much at home, gay and singing from
morning till night; and it was his great delight to call her into the
"Dental Parlors" when a patient was in the chair