As he was rapping in the little blocks and cylinders with the mallet, Trina slowly came back to herself with a long sigh.

She still felt a little confused, and lay quiet in the chair.
There was a long silence, broken only by the uneven tapping of the hardwood mallet.

By and by she said, "I never felt a thing," and then she smiled at him very prettily beneath the rubber dam.

McTeague turned to her suddenly, his mallet in one hand, his pliers holding a pellet of sponge-gold in the other.

All at once he said, with the unreasoned simplicity and directness of a child: "Listen here, Miss Trina, I like you better than any one else; what's the matter with us getting married ?" Trina sat up in the chair quickly, and then drew back from him, frightened and bewildered.
"Will you?
Will you ?" said McTeague.