A pitch-fork and a dung-heap?
That had its merits; but again there was the risk of more than one life.
All the way to his house, Jean Jacques, with something of the rage of passion and the glaze of horror gone from his eyes, and his face not now so ghastly, still brooded over how, after he had had his say, he was to put George Masson out of the world.

But it did not come at once.

All makers of life-stories find their difficulty at times.

Tirelessly they grope along a wall, day in, day out, and then suddenly a great gate swings open, as though to the touch of a spring, and the whole way is clear to the goal.
Jean Jacques went on thinking in a strange, new, intense abstraction.
His restless eyes were steadier than they had ever been; his wife noticed that as he entered the house after the Revelation.

She noticed also his paleness and his abstraction.