I'M giving up everything.
I'm going to put them down, see." "No." And she could get no further than that.

The dentist did not lose his temper, as in the case of the steel engraving or the stone pug dog; he simply opposed her entreaties and persuasions with a passive, inert obstinacy that nothing could move.

In the end Trina was obliged to submit.

McTeague kept his concertina and his canary, even going so far as to put them both away in the bedroom, attaching to them tags on which he had scrawled in immense round letters, "Not for Sale." One evening during that same week the dentist and his wife were in the dismantled sitting-room.

The room presented the appearance of a wreck.
The Nottingham lace curtains were down.