Even at that moment Nella wondered that a woman like Miss Spencer could be so simple as to think the revolver would actually be used.
Having absolutely no physical cowardice herself, Nella had the greatest difficulty in imagining that other people could be at the mercy of a bodily fear.

Still, she saw her advantage, and used it relentlessly, and with as much theatrical gesture as she could command.

She raised the revolver till it was level with Miss Spencer's face, and suddenly a new, queer feeling took hold of her.

She knew that she would indeed use that revolver now, if the miserable woman before her drove her too far.
She felt afraid--afraid of herself; she was in the grasp of a savage, primeval instinct.

In a flash she saw Miss Spencer dead at her feet--the police--a court of justice--the scaffold.