" CHAPTER VI. And now take away those cards, and never let me see them again. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. 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. From the first I could see that neither believed my story. He’s a catch, Lucy.
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