When several more hours passed, he began to grow afraid.

And with every step that led him closer to the promise, he had grown more afraid.

At the last second, he grew afraid, and shot Arlosoroff.

Even Sheila grew a little afraid as they drew close to the house.

We grow afraid of things or people we think are out to get us.

It was only later, in the winter, that I grew afraid of him.

The floating feeling was starting to leave her and she grew afraid.

Then the tables were turned and he grew afraid for me.

Then he grew afraid for her, that she would take arms and be killed, not knowing the case of things.

Staring out the window, then, watching the miles pass, I grew quite afraid.