“And I'll tell you this much too,” she cried, winking back the tears. “Now that you're out of a job, we can't afford even to live in your rat hole, as you call it. We've got to find a cheaper place than THIS even.”
“What!” exclaimed the dentist, purple with rage. “What, get into a worse hole in the wall than this? Well, we'll SEE if we will. We'll just see about that. You're going to do just as I tell you after this, Trina McTeague,” and once more he thrust his face close to hers.
“I know what's the matter,” cried Trina, with a half sob; “I know, I can smell it on your breath. You've been drinking whiskey.”
“Yes, I've been drinking whiskey,” retorted her husband. “I've been drinking whiskey. Have you got anything to say about it? Ah, yes, you're RIGHT, I've been drinking whiskey. What have YOU got to say about my drinking whiskey? Let's hear it.”
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” sobbed Trina, covering her face with her hands. McTeague caught her wrists in one palm and pulled them down. Trina's pale face was streaming with tears; her long, narrow blue eyes were swimming; her adorable little chin upraised and quivering.
“Let's hear what you got to say,” exclaimed McTeague.
“Nothing, nothing,” said Trina, between her sobs.
“Then stop that noise. Stop it, do you hear me? Stop it.” He threw up his open hand threateningly. “STOP!” he exclaimed.
Trina looked at him fearfully, half blinded with weeping. Her husband's thick mane of yellow hair was disordered and rumpled upon his great square-cut head; his big red ears were redder than ever; his face was purple; the thick eyebrows were knotted over the small, twinkling eyes; the heavy yellow mustache, that smelt of alcohol, drooped over the massive, protruding chin, salient, like that of the carnivora; the veins were swollen and throbbing on his thick red neck; while over her head Trina saw his upraised palm, callused, enormous.
“Stop!” he exclaimed. And Trina, watching fearfully, saw the palm suddenly contract into a fist, a fist that was hard as a wooden mallet, the fist of the old-time car-boy. And then her ancient terror of him, the intuitive fear of the male, leaped to life again. She was afraid of him. Every nerve of her quailed and shrank from him. She choked back her sobs, catching her breath.