The Mexican woman had been violently stirred over Trina's sudden wealth; Maria's mind had gone back to her younger days.
She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands, her eyes wide and fixed.

Old Grannis listened to her attentively.
"There wa'n't a piece that was so much as scratched," Maria was saying.
"Every piece was just like a mirror, smooth and bright; oh, bright as a little sun.

Such a service as that was--platters and soup tureens and an immense big punchbowl.

Five thousand dollars, what does that amount to?
Why, that punch-bowl alone was worth a fortune." "What a wonderful story!" exclaimed Old Grannis, never for an instant doubting its truth.

"And it's all lost now, you say ?" "Lost, lost," repeated Maria.
"Tut, tut! What a pity! What a pity!" Suddenly the agent rose and broke out with: "Well, I must be going, if I'm to get any car." He shook hands with everybody, offered a parting cigar to Marcus, congratulated McTeague and Trina a last time, and bowed himself out.
"What an elegant gentleman," commented Miss Baker.
"Ah," said Marcus, nodding his head, "there's a man of the world for you.