Can’t you see her that night? Alone Alon...

Can’t you see her that night? Alone! Alone! With only God and that— body. . . . (Pause.) You and I have never killed, gentlemen; we do not know the agony of that hour; we can only guess the mad regret, the bitter reproach, the torture, the hell (he grinds it out like a minister) she lived through then.
[... ...]
Betrayed, crushed, we can only let her pick up the broken fragments of life, the tangled threads—(she’s supposed to quiver her lip, but instead she rises, staggers toward the Jury with outstretched hands.)—we can give her another chance! (She totters, gives a wild shriek, and falls in a dead faint by his side. Grand confusion, and she’s carried out. He turns to Judge)| We rest, your honor; you may give the case to the Jury.

Maurine Watkins. Chicago. Alfred A. Knopf, 1926. pp.104-106