” “But how did you defend yourself? Was he so high on drugs that he couldn’t fight back or something?” Michelle asked. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. 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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