It was McTeague.

He stood in the middle of the floor, wagging his huge head.

He seemed to have just realized what had happened.
"Yes, sir, five thousand dollars!" exclaimed Marcus, with a sudden unaccountable mirthlessness.

"Five thousand dollars! Do you get on to that?
Cousin Trina and you will be rich people." "At six per cent, that's twenty-five dollars a month," hazarded the agent.
"Think of it.

Think of it," muttered McTeague.