Teague a
position in the shipping department of the wholesale toy store. However,
it was a position that involved a certain amount of ciphering, and
McTeague had been obliged to throw it up in two days.

Then for a time they had entertained a wild idea that a place on the
police force could be secured for McTeague. He could pass the physical
examination with flying colors, and Ryer, who had become the secretary
of the Polk Street Improvement Club, promised the requisite political
"pull." If McTeague had shown a certain energy in the matter the attempt
might have been successful; but he was too stupid, or of late had become
too listless to exert himself greatly, and the affair resulted only in a
violent quarrel with Ryer.

McTeague had lost his ambition. He did not care to better his situation.
All he wanted was a warm place to sleep and three good meals a day.
At the first--at the very first--he had chafed at his idleness and had
spent the days with his wife in their one narrow room, walking back and
forth with the restlessness of a caged brute, or sitting motionless for
hours, watching Trina at her work, feeling a dull glow of shame at the
idea that she was supporting him. This feeling had worn off quickly,
however. Trina's work was only hard when she chose to make it so, and as
a rule she supported their misfortunes with a silent fortitude.

Then, wearied at his inaction and feeling the need of movement and
exercise, McTeague would light his pipe and take a turn upon the great
avenue one block above Polk Street. A gang of laborers were digging the
foundations for a large brownstone house, and McTeague found interest
and amusement in leaning over the barrier that surrounded the
excavations and watching the progress of the work. He came to see
it every afternoon; by and by he even got to know the foreman who
superintended the job, and the two had long talks together. 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. So far from being
stupefied, he became, after the fourth glass, active, alert,
quick-witted, even talkative; a certain wickedness stirred in him then;
he was intractable, mean; and when he had drunk a little more heavily
than usual, he found a certain pl