A good deal of peasant blood still ran undiluted in her veins, and she had all the instinct of a hardy and penurious mountain race--the instinct which saves without any thought, without idea of consequence--saving for the sake of saving, hoarding without knowing why.

Even McTeague did not know how closely Trina held to her new-found wealth.
But they did not always pass their luncheon hour in this discussion of incomes and economies.

As the dentist came to know his little woman better she grew to be more and more of a puzzle and a joy to him.

She would suddenly interrupt a grave discourse upon the rents of rooms and the cost of light and fuel with a brusque outburst of affection that set him all a-tremble with delight.

All at once she would set down her chocolate, and, leaning across the narrow table, would exclaim: "Never mind all that! Oh, Mac, do you truly, really love me--love me BIG ?" McTeague would stammer something, gasping, and wagging his head, beside himself for the lack of words.
"Old bear," Trina would answer, grasping him by both huge ears and swaying his head from side to side.