To receive him here afterwards would be most repugnant to me. Horrible details recurred to her. 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. Perhaps, as you say, I do not really care—but I cannot do it. He might miss at this distance. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. “Why not? It might amuse me.
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