It was not gay, that life.

The room itself was not gay.

The huge double bed sprawled over nearly a fourth of the available space; the angles of Trina's trunk and the washstand projected into the room from the walls, and barked shins and scraped elbows.

Streaks and spots of the "non-poisonous" paint that Trina used were upon the walls and wood-work.

However, in one corner of the room, next the window, monstrous, distorted, brilliant, shining with a light of its own, stood the dentist's sign, the enormous golden tooth, the tooth of a Brobdingnag.
One afternoon in September, about four months after the McTeagues had left their suite, Trina was at her work by the window.