“Gracious!” she exclaimed to herself. ’ She tossed her head. 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. Above the housetops it was different. "I don't know," she answered vaguely. ’ ‘You need not be a nun,’ he said, leaning towards her. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Annabel believed it, came to England and married Sir John.
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