John sat undecided, looking now at Polly, now at his wife, and now at the other man.
'Oh, do be quick—for God's sike!' said Polly.
At that moment a sound as of something smashing was heard upstairs, and a woman's shriek. Mrs. Blakeston, in an effort to tear herself away from her husband, had knocked up against the wash-hand stand, and the whole thing had crashed down.
'Go on, John,' said the wife.
'No, I ain't goin'; I shan't do no good, an' 'e'll only round on me.'
'Well, you are a bloomin' lot of cowards, thet's all I can say,' indignantly answered the wife. 'But I ain't goin' ter see a woman murdered; I'll go an' stop 'im.'
With that she ran upstairs and threw open the door. Jim was still kneeling on his wife, hitting her furiously, while she was trying to protect her head and face with her hands.
'Leave off!' shouted the woman.
Jim looked up. ''Oo the devil are you?' he said.
'Leave off, I tell yer. Aren't yer ashimed of yerself, knockin' a woman abaht like that?' And she sprang at him, seizing his fist.