her
life, who had taken her from her home and from her parents, and with
whom she was now left alone here in this strange, vast flat?

"Oh, I'm afraid. I'm afraid," she cried.

McTeague came nearer, sat down beside her and put one arm around her.

"What are you afraid of, Trina?" he said, reassuringly. "I don't want to
frighten you."

She looked at him wildly, her adorable little chin quivering, the tears
brimming in her narrow blue eyes. Then her glance took on a certain
intentness, and she peered curiously into his face, saying almost in a
whisper:

"I'm afraid of YOU."

But the dentist did not heed her. An immense joy seized upon him--the
joy of possession. Trina was his very own now. She lay there in the
hollow of his arm, helpless and very pretty.

Those instincts that in him were so close to the surface suddenly leaped
to life, shouting and clamoring, not to be resisted. He loved her. Ah,
did he not love her? The smell of her hair, of her neck, rose to him.

Suddenly he caught her in both his huge arms, crushing down her struggle
with his immense strength, kissing her full upon the mouth. Then her
great love for McTeague suddenly flashed up in Trina's breast; she gave
up to him as she had done before, yielding all at once to that strange
desire of being conquered and subdued. She clung to him, her hands
clasped behind his neck, whispering in his ear:

"Oh, you must be good to me--very, very good to me, dear--for you're all
that I have in the world now."

CHAPTER 10

That summer passed, then the winter. The wet season began in the last
days of September and continued all through October, November, and
December. At long intervals would come a week of perfect days, the
sky without a cloud, the air motionless, but touched with a certain
nimbleness, a faint effervescence that was exhilarating. Then, without
warning, during a night when a south wind blew, a gray scroll of cloud
would unroll and hang high over the city, and the rain would come
pattering down again, at first in scattered showers, then in an
uninterrupted drizzle.

All day long Trina sat in the bay window of the sitting-room that
commanded a view of a small section of Polk Street. As often as she
raised her head she could see the big market, a confectionery store,
a bell-hanger's shop, and, farther on, above the roofs, the glass
skylights and water tanks of the big public baths. In the nearer
foreground ran the street itself; the cabl