"By damn!" cried Marcus, "they don't love each other. Just listen;
wouldn't that make a fight if the two got together? Have to try it some
day."



CHAPTER 5


Wednesday morning, Washington's Birthday, McTeague rose very early and
shaved himself. Besides the six mournful concertina airs, the dentist
knew one song. Whenever he shaved, he sung this song; never at any other
time. His voice was a bellowing roar, enough to make the window sashes
rattle. Just now he woke up all the lodgers in his hall with it. It was
a lamentable wail:

"No one to love, none to caress,
Left all alone in this world's wilderness."

As he paused to strop his razor, Marcus came into his room,
half-dressed, a startling phantom in red flannels.

Marcus often ran back and forth between his room and the dentist's
"Parlors" in all sorts of undress. Old Miss Baker had seen him thus
several times through her half-open door, as she sat in her room
listening and waiting. The old dressmaker was shocked out of all
expression. She was outraged, offended, pursing her lips, putting up her
head. She talked of complaining to the landlady. "And Mr. Grannis right
next door, too. You can understand how trying it is for both of us." She