At nine o'clock Mr.Sieppe showed McTeague to his room and left him to himself with a newly lighted candle.
For a long time after Mr.Sieppe had gone McTeague stood motionless in the middle of the room, his elbows pressed close to his sides, looking obliquely from the corners of his eyes.

He hardly dared to move.

He was in Trina's room.
It was an ordinary little room.

A clean white matting was on the floor; gray paper, spotted with pink and green flowers, covered the walls.

In one corner, under a white netting, was a little bed, the woodwork gayly painted with knots of bright flowers.