And probably the girl would wear herself out, too. She made herself a private declaration of liberty. The Night-Cellar XVIII. 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. She’s already spoken for. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way.
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