"Come, we must be going.

It's about over." The end of the show and the breaking up of the audience tided over the embarrassment of the moment.
The party filed out at the tail end of the audience.

Already the lights were being extinguished and the ushers spreading druggeting over the upholstered seats.
McTeague and the Sieppes took an uptown car that would bring them near Polk Street.

The car was crowded; McTeague and Owgooste were obliged to stand.

The little boy fretted to be taken in his mother's lap, but Mrs.
Sieppe emphatically refused.
On their way home they discussed the performance.
"I--I like best der yodlers." "Ah, the soloist was the best--the lady who sang those sad songs." "Wasn't--wasn't that magic lantern wonderful, where the figures moved?
Wonderful--ah, wonderful! And wasn't that first act funny, where the fellow fell down all the time?
And that musical act, and the fellow with the burnt-cork face who played 'Nearer, My God, to Thee' on the beer bottles." They got off at Polk Street and walked up a block to the flat.