“It’s odd—I have no doubt in my mind that what we are doing is wrong,” he said. He slapped his knee. Tell me all that happened, one sister-woman to another. “Yes, I see that. He laughed at her heartily, and she laughed too as she had not for a year. There's a friend of Sir James—a young man, an engraver of masquerade tickets and caricatures,—his name I believe is Hogarth. 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.
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