"Well ?" said Trina interrogatively as her husband entered.

McTeague did not answer.

He hung his hat on the hook behind the door and dropped heavily into a chair.
"Well," asked Trina, anxiously, "how did you make out, Mac ?" Still the dentist pretended not to hear, scowling fiercely at his muddy boots.
"Tell me, Mac, I want to know.

Did you get a place?
Did you get caught in the rain ?" "Did I?
Did I ?" cried the dentist, sharply, an alacrity in his manner and voice that Trina had never observed before.
"Look at me.

Look at me," he went on, speaking with an unwonted rapidity, his wits sharp, his ideas succeeding each other quickly.