Nothingcouldhavebeenmorehorriblyconstrained，moreawkward。Thetwooldpeoplesufferedveritabletorture。
　　WhenMariahadgone，eachheavedasighofunspeakablerelief。Softlytheypushedtotheirdoors，leavingopenaspaceofhalfadozeninches。OldGranniswentbacktohisbinding。MissBakerbrewedacupofteatoquiethernerves。Eachtriedtoregaintheircomposure，butinvain。
　　OldGrannis’sfingerstrembledsothatheprickedthemwithhisneedle。MissBakerdroppedherspoontwice。Theirnervousnesswouldnotwearoff。Theywereperturbed，upset。
　　Inaword，theafternoonwasspoiled。
　　Mariawentonabouttheflatfromroomtoroom。ShehadalreadypaidMarcusSchouleravisitearlythatmorningbeforehehadgoneout。Marcushadswornather，excitedlyvociferating；“No，bydamn！No，hehadn’tathingforher；
　　hehadn’t，forafact。Itwasapositivepersecution。Everydayhisprivacywasinvaded。Hewouldcomplaintothelandlady，hewould。He’dmoveoutoftheplace。“IntheendhehadgivenMariasevenemptywhiskeyflasks，anirongrate，andtencents——thelatterbecausehesaidsheworeherhairlikeagirlheusedtoknow。
　　AftercomingfromMissBaker’sroomMariaknockedatMcTeague’sdoor。Thedentistwaslyingonthebed-loungeinhisstockingfeet，doingnothingapparently，gazingupattheceiling，lostinthought。
　　SincehehadspokentoTrinaSieppe，askinghersoabruptlytomarryhim，McTeaguehadpassedaweekoftorment。Forhimtherewasnogoingback。ItwasTrinanow，andnoneother。Itwasallonewithhimthathisbestfriend，Marcus，mightbeinlovewiththesamegirl。HemusthaveTrinainspiteofeverything；hewouldhavehereveninspiteofherself。Hedidnotstoptoreflectaboutthematter；hefollowedhisdesireblindly，recklessly，furiousandragingateveryobstacle。Andshehadcried“No，no！“
　　backathim；hecouldnotforgetthat。She，sosmallandpaleanddelicate，hadheldhimatbay，whowassohuge，soimmenselystrong。
　　Besidesthat，allthecharmoftheirintimacywasgone。
　　Afterthatunhappysitting，Trinawasnolongerfrankandstraight-forward。Nowshewascircumspect，reserved，distant。Hecouldnolongeropenhismouth；wordsfailedhim。Atonesittinginparticulartheyhadsaidbutgood-
　　dayandgood-bytoeachother。Hefeltthathewasclumsyandungainly。Hetoldhimselfthatshedespisedhim。
　　Butthememoryofherwaswithhimconstantly。NightafternighthelaybroadawakethinkingofTrina，wonderingabouther，rackedwiththeinfinitedesireofher。Hisheadburntandthrobbed。Thepalmsofhishandsweredry。Hedozedandwoke，andwalkedaimlesslyaboutthedarkroom，bruisinghimselfagainstthethreechairsdrawnup“atattention“
　　underthesteelengraving，andstumblingoverthestonepugdogthatsatinfrontofthelittlestove。
　　Besidesthis，thejealousyofMarcusSchoulerharassedhim。
　　MariaMacapa，comingintohis“Parlor“toaskforjunk，foundhimflungatlengthuponthebed-lounge，gnawingathisfingersinanexcessofsilentfury。AtlunchthatdayMarcushadtoldhimofanexcursionthatwasplannedforthenextSundayafternoon。Mr。Sieppe，Trina’sfather，belongedtoarifleclubthatwastoholdameetatSchuetzenParkacrossthebay。AlltheSieppesweregoing；
　　therewastobeabasketpicnic。Marcus，asusual，wasinvitedtobeoneoftheparty。McTeaguewasinagony。Itwashisfirstexperience，andhesufferedalltheworseforitbecausehewastotallyunprepared。Whatmiserablecomplicationwasthisinwhichhefoundhimselfinvolved？
　　ItseemedsosimpletohimsincehelovedTrinatotakeherstraighttohimself，stoppingatnothing，askingnoquestions，tohaveher，andbymainstrengthtocarryherfarawaysomewhere，hedidnotknowexactlywhere，tosomevaguecountry，someundiscoveredplacewhereeverydaywasSunday。
　　“Gotanyjunk？“
　　“Huh？What？Whatisit？“exclaimedMcTeague，suddenlyrousingupfromthelounge。OftenMariadidverywellinthe“DentalParlors。“McTeaguewascontinuallybreakingthingswhichhewastoostupidtohavemended；forhimanythingthatwasbrokenwaslost。Nowitwasacuspidor，nowafire-shovelforthelittlestove，nowaChinashavingmug。
　　“Gotanyjunk？“
　　“Idon’tknow——Idon’tremember，“mutteredMcTeague。Mariaroamedabouttheroom，McTeaguefollowingherinhishugestockingedfeet。Allatonceshepounceduponasheafofoldhandinstrumentsinacoverlesscigar-box，pluggers，hardbits，andexcavators。MariahadlongcovetedsuchafindinMcTeague’s“Parlor，“knowingitshouldbesomewhereabout。Theinstrumentswereofthefinesttemperedsteelandreallyvaluable。
　　“Say，Doctor，Icanhavethese，can’tI？“exclaimedMaria。
　　“Yougotnomoreuseforthem。“McTeaguewasnotatallsureofthis。Thereweremanyinthesheafthatmightberepaired，reshaped。
　　“No，no，“hesaid，wagginghishead。ButMariaMacapa，knowingwithwhomshehadtodeal，atonceletlooseatorrentofwords。Shemadethedentistbelievethathehadnorighttowithholdthem，thathehadpromisedtosavethemforher。Sheaffectedagreatindignation，pursingherlipsandputtingherchinintheairasthoughwoundedinsomefinersense，changingsorapidlyfromonemoodtoanother，fillingtheroomwithsuchshrillclamor，thatMcTeaguewasdazedandbenumbed。
　　“Yes，allright，allright，“hesaid，tryingtomakehimselfheard。“ItWOULDbemean。Idon’twant’em。“Asheturnedfromhertopickupthebox，Mariatookadvantageofthemomenttostealthree“mats“ofsponge-goldoutoftheglasssaucer。OftenshestoleMcTeague’sgold，almostunderhisveryeyes；indeed，itwassoeasytodosothattherewasbutlittlepleasureinthetheft。ThenMariatookherselfoff。McTeaguereturnedtothesofaandflunghimselfuponitfacedownward。
　　AlittlebeforesuppertimeMariacompletedhersearch。Theflatwascleanedofitsjunkfromtoptobottom。Thedirtypillow-casewasfulltobursting。ShetookadvantageofthesupperhourtocarryherbundlearoundthecornerandupintothealleywhereZerkowlived。
　　WhenMariaenteredhisshop，Zerkowhadjustcomeinfromhisdailyrounds。Hisdecrepitwagonstoodinfrontofhisdoorlikeastrandedwreck；themiserablehorse，withitslamentableswollenjoints，fedgreedilyuponanarmfulofspoiledhayinashedattheback。
　　Theinteriorofthejunkshopwasdarkanddamp，andfoulwithallmannerofchokingodors。Onthewalls，onthefloor，andhangingfromtherafterswasaworldofdebris，dust-blackened，rust-corroded。Everythingwasthere，everytradewasrepresented，everyclassofsociety；thingsofironandclothandwood；allthedetritusthatagreatcitysloughsoffinitsdailylife。Zerkow’sjunkshopwasthelastabiding-place，thealmshouse，ofsucharticlesashadoutlivedtheirusefulness。
　　MariafoundZerkowhimselfinthebackroom，cookingsomesortofamealoveranalcoholstove。ZerkowwasaPolishJew——curiouslyenoughhishairwasfieryred。Hewasadry，shrivelledoldmanofsixtyodd。Hehadthethin，eager，cat-likelipsofthecovetous；eyesthathadgrownkeenasthoseofalynxfromlongsearchingamidstmuckanddebris；andclaw-like，prehensilefingers——thefingersofamanwhoaccumulates，butneverdisburses。ItwasimpossibletolookatZerkowandnotknowinstantlythatgreed——
　　inordinate，insatiablegreed——wasthedominantpassionoftheman。HewastheManwiththeRake，gropinghourlyinthemuck-heapofthecityforgold，forgold，forgold。Itwashisdream，hispassion；ateveryinstantheseemedtofeelthegeneroussolidweightofthecrudefatmetalinhispalms。Theglintofitwasconstantlyinhiseyes；thejangleofitsangforeverinhisearsasthejanglingofcymbals。
　　“Whoisit？Whoisit？“exclaimedZerkow，asheheardMaria’sfootstepsintheouterroom。Hisvoicewasfaint，husky，reducedalmosttoawhisperbyhisprolongedhabitofstreetcrying。
　　“Oh，it’syouagain，isit？“headded，peeringthroughthegloomoftheshop。“Let’ssee；you’vebeenherebefore，ain’tyou？You’retheMexicanwomanfromPolkStreet。
　　Macapa’syourname，hey？“
　　Marianodded。“Hadaflyingsquirrelan’lethimgo，“shemuttered，absently。Zerkowwaspuzzled；helookedathersharplyforamoment，thendismissedthematterwithamovementofhishead。
　　“Well，whatyougotforme？“hesaid。Helefthissuppertogrowcold，absorbedatonceintheaffair。
　　Thenalongwranglebegan。EverybitofjunkinMaria’spillow-casewasdiscussedandweighedanddisputed。Theyclamoredintoeachother’sfacesoverOldGrannis’scrackedpitcher，overMissBaker’ssilkgaiters，overMarcusSchouler’swhiskeyflasks，reachingtheclimaxofdisagreementwhenitcametoMcTeague’sinstruments。
　　“Ah，no，no！“shoutedMaria。“Fifteencentsforthelot！I
　　mightaswellmakeyouaChristmaspresent！Besides，Igotsomegoldfillingsoffhim；lookatum。“
　　ZerkowdrewaquickbreathasthethreepelletssuddenlyflashedinMaria’spalm。Thereitwas，thevirginmetal，thepure，unalloyedore，hisdream，hisconsumingdesire。
　　Hisfingerstwitchedandhookedthemselvesintohispalms，histhinlipsdrewtightacrosshisteeth。
　　“Ah，yougotsomegold，“hemuttered，reachingforit。
　　Mariashutherfistoverthepellets。“Thegoldgoeswiththeothers，“shedeclared。“You’llgi’meafairpriceforthelot，orI’lltakeumback。“
　　IntheendabargainwasstruckthatsatisfiedMaria。
　　Zerkowwasnotonewhowouldletgoldgooutofhishouse。