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. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page. She smiled mechanically at the audience, holding her violin limply, feeling the hot lights on her made-up face. White men and natives dealt conveniently at Copeley's. You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me.
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