McTeague, on his part, never asked himself now-a-days whether he loved Trina the wife as much as he had loved Trina the young girl.  There had been a time when to kiss Trina, to take her in his arms, had thrilled him from head to heel with a happiness that was beyond words; even the smell of her wonderful odorous hair had sent a sensation of faintness all through him.  That time was long past now.  Those sudden outbursts of affection on the part of his little woman, outbursts that only increased in vehemence the longer they lived together, puzzled rather than pleased him.  He had come to submit to them good-naturedly, answering her passionate inquiries with a “Sure, sure, Trina, sure I love you.  What—­what’s the matter with you?”

There was no passion in the dentist’s regard for his wife.  He dearly liked to have her near him, he took an enormous pleasure in watching her as she moved about their rooms, very much at home, gay and singing from morning till night; and it was his great delight to call her into the “Dental Parlors” when a patient was in the chair and, while he held the plugger, to have her rap in the gold fillings with the little box-wood mallet as he had taught her.  But that tempest of passion, that overpowering desire that had suddenly taken possession of him that day when he had given her ether, again when he had caught her in his arms in the B Street station, and again and again during the early days of their married life, rarely stirred him now.  On the other hand, he was never assailed with doubts as to the wisdom of his marriage.

McTeague had relapsed to his wonted stolidity.  He never questioned himself, never looked for motives, never went to the bottom of things.  The year following upon the summer of his marriage was a time of great contentment for him; after the novelty of the honeymoon had passed he slipped easily into the new order of things without a question.  Thus his life would be for years to come.  Trina was there; he was married and settled.  He accepted the situation.  The little animal comforts which for him constituted the enjoyment of life were ministered to at every turn, or when they were interfered with—­as in the case of his Sunday afternoon’s nap and beer—­some agreeable substitute was found.  In her attempts to improve McTeague—­to raise him from the stupid animal life to which he had been accustomed in his bachelor days—­Trina was tactful enough to move so cautiously and with such slowness that the dentist was unconscious of any process of change.  In the matter of the high silk hat, it seemed to him that the initiative had come from himself.