Stonily he had disengaged himself. So she said: “I won’t come home. "Ruth!" She had gone to the door, aimlessly, without purpose. She took his hand in hers. She expanded that. In a moment he was beside her. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. Above was a spacious hall, connected with it by a flight of stone steps, at the further end of which stood an immense grated door, called in the slang of the place "The Jigger," through the bars of which the felons in the upper wards were allowed to converse with their friends, or if they wished to enter the room, or join the revellers below, they were at liberty to do so, on payment of a small fine. Oh God! my limbs fail me. What! mum still. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know.
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