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, and in a moment he was transformed into the old-time larrikin, accustomed to demand an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.
He rushed at her with a cry like an animal, and caught her by the throat with his powerful hands.

But the contact of his fingers with that delicate flesh that he had never dared to touch before brought him to his senses.