"Now, get outa here." Zerkow backed away, peering and peeping over Marcus's shoulder.
"I want Maria." "Get outa here.

Get along out, or I'll PUT you out." The street door closed.

The Jew was gone.
"Huh!" snorted Marcus, swelling with arrogance.

"Huh! Think I'm afraid of his knife?
I ain't afraid of ANYBODY," he shouted pointedly, for McTeague and his wife, roused by the clamor, were peering over the banisters from the landing above.

"Not of anybody," repeated Marcus.
Maria came out into the hall.
"Is he gone?
Is he sure gone ?" "What was the trouble ?" inquired Marcus, suddenly.
"I woke up about an hour ago," Maria explained, "and Zerkow wasn't in bed; maybe he hadn't come to bed at all.