There she was, his little woman, looking up at him, her adorable little chin thrust upward with that familiar movement of innocence and confidence.

The dentist saw again, as if for the first time, her small, pale face looking out from beneath her royal tiara of black hair; he saw again her long, narrow blue eyes; her lips, nose, and tiny ears, pale and bloodless, and suggestive of anaemia, as if all the vitality that should have lent them color had been sucked up into the strands and coils of that wonderful hair.
As their eyes met they waved their hands gayly to each other; then McTeague heard Trina and her mother come up the stairs and go into the bedroom of the photographer's suite, where Trina was to dress.
No, no; surely there could be no longer any hesitation.

He knew that he loved her.

What was the matter with him, that he should have doubted it for an instant?
The great difficulty was that she was too good, too adorable, too sweet, too delicate for him, who was so huge, so clumsy, so brutal.
There was a knock at the door.

It was Old Grannis.