came on so slow that I was, that--that--that it was done before I knew
it, before I could help myself. I know we're pals, us two, and I knew
how--how you and Miss Sieppe were. I know now, I knew then; but that
wouldn't have made any difference. Before I knew it--it--it--there I
was. I can't help it. I wouldn't 'a' had ut happen for anything, if
I could 'a' stopped it, but I don' know, it's something that's just
stronger than you are, that's all. She came there--Miss Sieppe came to
the parlors there three or four times a week, and she was the first
girl I had ever known,--and you don' know! Why, I was so close to her I
touched her face every minute, and her mouth, and smelt her hair and her
breath--oh, you don't know anything about it. I can't give you any idea.
I don' know exactly myself; I only know how I'm fixed. I--I--it's
been done; it's too late, there's no going back. Why, I can't think
of anything else night and day. It's everything. It's--it's--oh, it's
everything! I--I--why, Mark, it's everything--I can't explain." He made
a helpless movement with both hands.

Never had McTeague been so excited; never had he made so long a speech.
His arms moved in fierce, uncertain gestures, his face flushed, his
enormous jaws shut together with a sharp click at every pause. It was
like some colossal brute trapped in a delicate, invisible mesh, raging,
exasperated, powerless to extricate himself.

Marcus Schouler said nothing. There was a long silence. Marcus got up
and walked to the window and stood looking out, but seeing nothing.
"Well, who would have thought of this?" he muttered under his breath.
Here was a fix. Marcus cared for Trina. There was no doubt in his
mind about that. He looked forward eagerly to the Sunday afternoon
excursions. He liked to be with Trina. He, too, felt the charm of the
little girl--the charm of the small, pale forehead; the little chin