It's going to rain." "Pshaw! You can walk just as well as not.

A big fellow like you 'fraid of a little walk; and it ain't going to rain." Trina had lied again both as to the want of oil for the stove and the commutation ticket for the restaurant.

But she knew by instinct that McTeague had money about him, and she did not intend to let it go out of the house.

She listened intently until she was sure McTeague was gone.
Then she hurriedly opened her trunk and hid the money in the chamois bag at the bottom.
The dentist presented himself at every one of the makers of surgical instruments that afternoon and was promptly turned away in each case.
Then it came on to rain, a fine, cold drizzle, that chilled him and wet him to the bone.

He had no umbrella, and Trina had not left him even five cents for car fare.