"You don't eat," continued Kneebone, addressing Jack, who had remained for some time thoughtful, and pre-occupied with his head upon his hand. “Our ways happened to lie together. "More than you'll pay for it, friend," snuffled the Jew. “Do you want some of mine?” “Yes. 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. He sat down beside her just as the room became darker. She stopped eating.
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