The picnic at Schuetzen Park decided matters. McTeague began to call on Trina regularly Sunday and Wednesday afternoons. He took Marcus Schouler's place. Sometimes Marcus accompanied him, but it was generally to meet Selina by appointment at the Sieppes's house.
But Marcus made the most of his renunciation of his cousin. He remembered his pose from time to time. He made McTeague unhappy and bewildered by wringing his hand, by venting sighs that seemed to tear his heart out, or by giving evidences of an infinite melancholy. “What is my life!” he would exclaim. “What is left for me? Nothing, by damn!” And when McTeague would attempt remonstrance, he would cry: “Never mind, old man. Never mind me. Go, be happy. I forgive you.”
Forgive what? McTeague was all at sea, was harassed with the thought of some shadowy, irreparable injury he had done his friend.
“Oh, don't think of me!” Marcus would exclaim at other times, even when Trina was by. “Don't think of me; I don't count any more. I ain't in it.” Marcus seemed to take great pleasure in contemplating the wreck of his life. There is no doubt he enjoyed himself hugely during these days.
The Sieppes were at first puzzled as well over this change of front.
“Trina has den a new younge man,” cried Mr. Sieppe. “First Schouler, now der doktor, eh? What die tevil, I say!”
Weeks passed, February went, March came in very rainy, putting a stop to all their picnics and Sunday excursions.
One Wednesday afternoon in the second week in March McTeague came over to call on Trina, bringing his concertina with him, as was his custom nowadays. As he got off the train at the station he was surprised to find Trina waiting for him.
“This is the first day it hasn't rained in weeks,” she explained, “an' I thought it would be nice to walk.”
“Sure, sure,” assented McTeague.