Just outside his window was his signboard--a modest affair--that read: "Doctor McTeague.

Dental Parlors.

Gas Given"; but that was all.

It was his ambition, his dream, to have projecting from that corner window a huge gilded tooth, a molar with enormous prongs, something gorgeous and attractive.

He would have it some day, on that he was resolved; but as yet such a thing was far beyond his means.
When he had finished the last of his beer, McTeague slowly wiped his lips and huge yellow mustache with the side of his hand.