"Yes, yes, come in," exclaimed the dentist, suddenly, speaking without
thought. "Have some beer?" he added, struck with an idea.

"No, thanks, Doctor," said Marcus, pleasantly.

McTeague and Trina were puzzled. What could it all mean? Did Marcus
want to become reconciled to his enemy? "I know." Trina said to herself.
"He's going away, and he wants to borrow some money. He won't get a
penny, not a penny." She set her teeth together hard.

"Well," said Marcus, "how's business, Doctor?"

"Oh," said McTeague, uneasily, "oh, I don' know. I guess--I guess,"
he broke off in helpless embarrassment. They had all sat down by now.
Marcus continued, holding his hat and his cane--the black wand of ebony
with the gold top presented to him by the "Improvement Club."

"Ah!" said he, wagging his head and looking about the sitting-room, "you
people have got the best fixed rooms in the whole flat. Yes, sir; you
have, for a fact." He glanced from the lithograph framed in gilt and red
plush--the two little girls at their prayers--to the "I'm Grandpa"
and "I'm Grandma" pictures, noted the clean white matting and the gay
worsted tidies over the chair backs, and appeared to contemplate in
ecstasy the framed photograph of McTeague and Trina in their wedding
finery.

"Well, you two are pretty happy together, ain't you?" said he, smiling
good-humoredly.

"Oh, we don't complain," answered Trina.

"Plenty of money, lots to do, everything fine, hey?"

"We've got lots to do," returned Trina, thinking to head him off, "but
we've not got lots of money."

But evidently Marcus wanted no money.

"Well, Cousin Trina," he said, rubbing his knee, "I'm going away."

"Yes, mamma wrote me; you're going on a ranch."

"I'm going in ranching with an English duck," corrected Marcus. "Mr.
Sieppe has fixed things. We'll see if we can't raise some cattle. I know
a lot about horses, and he's ranched some before--this English duck. And
then I'm going to keep my eye open for a political chance down there. I
got some introductions from the President of the Improvement Club. I'll
work things somehow, oh, sure."

"How long you going to be gone?" asked Trina.

Marcus stared.

"Why, I ain't EVER coming back," he vociferated. "I'm going to-morrow,
and I'm going for good. I come to say good-by."

Marcus stayed for upwards of an hour that evening. He talked on easily
and agreeably, addressing himself as much to McTeague as to Trina. At
last he rose.

"We