Upon my word, Anna,” she declared, with a strange little laugh, “you are a thousand times more like me as I was two months ago than I am myself. They had cried a little, both. Set yourself to find it out, if you will—but if you do, never dare to call yourself my friend again. There is the election——” He laughed derisively. “How will you live?” she appealed. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. 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.
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