There was a silence. The corundum burr in McTeague's engine hummed in a
prolonged monotone. The canary bird chittered occasionally. The room was
warm, and the breathing of the five people in the narrow space made the
air close and thick. At long intervals an acrid odor of ink floated up
from the branch post-office immediately below.

Maria Macapa finished her work and started to leave. As she passed near
Marcus and his cousin she stopped, and drew a bunch of blue tickets
furtively from her pocket. "Buy a ticket in the lottery?" she inquired,
looking at the girl. "Just a dollar."

"Go along with you, Maria," said Marcus, who had but thirty cents in his
pocket. "Go along; it's against the law."

"Buy a ticket," urged Maria, thrusting the bundle toward Trina. "Try
your luck. The butcher on the next block won twenty dollars the last
drawing."

Very uneasy, Trina bought a ticket for the sake of being rid of her.
Maria disappeared.

"Ain't she a queer bird?" muttered Marcus. He was much embarrassed and
disturbed because he had not bought the ticket for Trina.

But there was a sudden movement. McTeague had just finished with Miss
Baker.

"You should notice," the dressmaker said to the dentist, in a low voice,
"he always leaves the door a little ajar in the afternoon." When she had
gone out, Marcus Schouler brought Trina forward.