The situation had got beyond him.

Stupidly he spoke, his hands deep in his pockets, his head rolled forward.
"It's--it's Miss Sieppe," he said.
"Trina, my cousin?
How do you mean ?" inquired Marcus sharply.
"I--I--I don' know," stammered McTeague, hopelessly confounded.
"You mean," cried Marcus, suddenly enlightened, "that you are--that you, too." McTeague stirred in his chair, looking at the walls of the room, avoiding the other's glance.

He nodded his head, then suddenly broke out: "I can't help it.

It ain't my fault, is it ?" Marcus was struck dumb; he dropped back in his chair breathless.
Suddenly McTeague found his tongue.
"I tell you, Mark, I can't help it.

I don't know how it happened.