The little dressmaker remained at his elbow, looking from him to Trina.
"Poor little woman!" said the doctor; "poor little woman!" Miss Baker pointed to the trunk, whispering: "See, there's where she kept her savings.

See, he broke the lock." "Well, Mrs.McTeague," said the doctor, sitting down by the bed, and taking Trina's wrist, "a little fever, eh ?" Trina opened her eyes and looked at him, and then at Miss Baker.

She did not seem in the least surprised at the unfamiliar faces.

She appeared to consider it all as a matter of course.
"Yes," she said, with a long, tremulous breath, "I have a fever, and my head--my head aches and aches." The doctor prescribed rest and mild opiates.

Then his eye fell upon the fingers of Trina's right hand.