He greeted the corpulent boy at the register, whose tag read, \"MY NAME IS Jason\" with familiarity. ’ ‘Is it, now? Well you won’t, then, for he won’t hear nothing, missie. Besides, by the time they were off his hands, old McClintock would be dropping in to have his liver renovated. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Her mother had prepared her for everything. 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. “Alone, dear?” “Yes, aunt.
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