nned to move or speak.
Jonah's world had fallen about his ears, and Clara's dreams of wealth
mocked at her and fled.

Suddenly, in the deadly silence, Jonah began to speak.

"So it was you, was it? I never thought of that. I wonder what
brought yer 'ere just as I found this? They say murder will out, an' I
believe it now. If this 'appened to anybody else, 'e'd go mad. But I
can stand it. I'm tough. I fought my way up from the gutter. An'
ye're the woman that I worshipped....For God's sake, woman, speak!
Make up something that I can believe. Say yer never 'ad a 'and in
this, an' I'll kiss the ground yer walk on. No, it wouldn't be any
use. I couldn't believe the angel Gabriel, if he looked at me with
that face. Yer paid for that bottle an' brought it 'ere. I saw that
the moment yer set eyes on it. Yer thought Ada wasn't goin' ter hell
fast enough, an' yer'd give 'er a shove. An' I see now why yer did it.
Yer wanted ter step into 'er shoes, an' 'andle my money. It wasn't me
yer wanted. I might 'ave known that. It was the shop that yer were
always talkin' about. An' if yer 'adn't walked in at that door just
now, I should never 'ave suspected. Screamin' funny, ain't it? She
wasn't much loss, but she was a thousand times better than the ladylike
devil that killed her. I don't know 'ow the law stands in a case like
this. Yer may be safe from that, but yer've got me ter deal with
first. Yer led me on with yer damned airs to believe in things I've
never dreamt of before. An' now yer've killed the best in me as sure
as yer murdered my wife. Well, yer must pay for that, too."

Clara sat on the chair like one in a trance. She understood in a
numbed kind of way that something dreadful was going to happen. O God,
she had never meant to do wrong! And if this was the punishment, let
it come quickly. Jonah had been walking backwards and forwards with
nervous steps, and she noted every detail of his person with a fixed
stare. The early repugnance to his deformity returned with horror as
she studied the large head, wedged between the shoulders as if a
giant's hand had pressed it down, the projecting hump, and the
unnaturally long arms ending in the hard, hairy fist of the shoemaker.

She felt that he was going to kill her. She wanted to speak, to cry
out that she was not so guilty as he thought, but her tongue was like a
rasp. Suddenly Jonah stopped in front of her. Her stony silence had
maddened him, a