Then, wearied at his inaction and feeling the need of movement and exercise, McTeague would light his pipe and take a turn upon the great avenue one block above Polk Street.  A gang of laborers were digging the foundations for a large brownstone house, and McTeague found interest and amusement in leaning over the barrier that surrounded the excavations and watching the progress of the work.  He came to see it every afternoon; by and by he even got to know the foreman who superintended the job, and the two had long talks together.  Then McTeague would return to Polk Street and find Heise in the back room of the harness shop, and occasionally the day ended with some half dozen drinks of whiskey at Joe Frenna’s saloon.

It was curious to note the effect of the alcohol upon the dentist.  It did not make him drunk, it made him vicious.  So far from being stupefied, he became, after the fourth glass, active, alert, quick-witted, even talkative; a certain wickedness stirred in him then; he was intractable, mean; and when he had drunk a little more heavily than usual, he found a certain pleasure in annoying and exasperating Trina, even in abusing and hurting her.

It had begun on the evening of Thanksgiving Day, when Heise had taken McTeague out to dinner with him.  The dentist on this occasion had drunk very freely.  He and Heise had returned to Polk Street towards ten o’clock, and Heise at once suggested a couple of drinks at Frenna’s.

“All right, all right,” said McTeague.  “Drinks, that’s the word.  I’ll go home and get some money and meet you at Joe’s.”

Trina was awakened by her husband pinching her arm.

“Oh, Mac,” she cried, jumping up in bed with a little scream, “how you hurt!  Oh, that hurt me dreadfully.”

“Give me a little money,” answered the dentist, grinning, and pinching her again.

“I haven’t a cent.  There’s not a—­oh, Mac, will you stop?  I won’t have you pinch me that way.”

“Hurry up,” answered her husband, calmly, nipping the flesh of her shoulder between his thumb and finger.  “Heise’s waiting for me.”  Trina wrenched from him with a sharp intake of breath, frowning with pain, and caressing her shoulder.

“Mac, you’ve no idea how that hurts.  Mac, stop!”

“Give me some money, then.”

In the end Trina had to comply.  She gave him half a dollar from her dress pocket, protesting that it was the only piece of money she had.

“One more, just for luck,” said McTeague, pinching her again; “and another.”

“How can you—­how can you hurt a woman so!” exclaimed Trina, beginning to cry with the pain.

“Ah, now, cry,” retorted the dentist.  “That’s right, cry.  I never saw such a little fool.”  He went out, slamming the door in disgust.