He felt hideously out of place.

He was an intruder; he, with his enormous feet, his colossal bones, his crude, brutal gestures.

The mere weight of his limbs, he was sure, would crush the little bed-stead like an eggshell.
Then, as this first sensation wore off, he began to feel the charm of the little chamber.

It was as though Trina were close by, but invisible.
McTeague felt all the delight of her presence without the embarrassment that usually accompanied it.

He was near to her--nearer than he had ever been before.