Trina had McTeague buy a catalogue and made a duty of finding the title of every picture.

This, too, she told McTeague, as a kind of education one ought to cultivate.
Trina professed to be fond of art, having perhaps acquired a taste for painting and sculpture from her experience with the Noah's ark animals.
"Of course," she told the dentist, "I'm no critic, I only know what I like." She knew that she liked the "Ideal Heads," lovely girls with flowing straw-colored hair and immense, upturned eyes.

These always had for title, "Reverie," or "An Idyll," or "Dreams of Love." "I think those are lovely, don't you, Mac ?" she said.
"Yes, yes," answered McTeague, nodding his head, bewildered, trying to understand.

"Yes, yes, lovely, that's the word.

Are you dead sure now, Trina, that all that's hand-painted just like the poppies ?" Thus the winter passed, a year went by, then two.