me, it only made me love him more.
How is it I've changed so sudden? How COULD I forget him so soon? It
must be because he stole my money. That is it. I couldn't forgive anyone
that--no, not even my MOTHER. And I never--never--will forgive him."

What had become of her husband Trina did not know. She never saw any of
the old Polk Street people. There was no way she could have news of him,
even if she had cared to have it. She had her money, that was the main
thing. Her passion for it excluded every other sentiment. There it was
in the bottom of her trunk, in the canvas sack, the chamois-skin bag,
and the little brass match-safe. Not a day passed that Trina did not
have it out where she could see and touch it. One evening she had even
spread all the gold pieces between the sheets, and had then gone to
bed, stripping herself, and had slept all night upon the money, taking a
strange and ecstatic pleasure in the touch of the smooth flat pieces the
length of her entire body.

One night, some three months after she had come to live at the
kindergarten, Trina was awakened by a sharp tap on the pane of the
window. She sat up quickly in bed, her heart beating thickly, her eyes
rolling wildly in the direction of her trunk. The tap was repeated.
Trina rose and went fearfully to the window. 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. He was wearing a pair of blue overalls;
a navy-blue flannel shirt without a cravat; an old coat, faded,
rain-washed, and ripped at the seams; and his woollen cap.

"Say, Trina," he exclaimed, his heavy bass voice pitched just above
a whisper, "let me in, will you, huh? Say, will you? I'm regularly
starving, and I haven't slept in a Christian bed for two weeks."

At sight at him standing there in the moonlight, Trina could only think
of him as the man who had beaten and bitten her, had deserted her and
stolen her money, had made her suffer as she had never suffered before
in all her life. Now that he had spent the money that he had stolen from
her, he was whining to come back--so that he might steal more, no doubt.
Once in her room he could not help but