His eyes were alight.
"No, no," cried Trina, shrinking from him.

Suddenly seized with the fear of him--the intuitive feminine fear of the male--her whole being quailed before him.

She was terrified at his huge, square-cut head; his powerful, salient jaw; his huge, red hands; his enormous, resistless strength.
"No, no--I'm afraid," she cried, drawing back from him to the other side of the room.
"Afraid ?" answered the dentist in perplexity.

"What are you afraid of, Trina?
I'm not going to hurt you.

What are you afraid of ?" What, indeed, was Trina afraid of?
She could not tell.