Through the gaping doors you saw a tightly-packed crowd of men, women, and children, drinking at the bar or waiting to have their jugs filled, tobacco smoke wreathing above their heads.

With few exceptions the frequenters of the Walk turned into the public-house as a natural incident of the evening's business.
The women with the babies grew thirsty in the hot, foul air of the street, and invited each other to refreshment of varying strength, chatting the while of their most intimate affairs, the eternal 'says I,' 'says he,' 'says she,' of vulgar converse.

They stood indifferently by the side of liquor-sodden creatures whose look was pollution.
Companies of girls, neatly dressed and as far from depravity as possible, called for their glasses of small beer, and came forth again with merriment in treble key.
When the sisters had done their business at the boot-maker's, and were considering what their purchase should be for Sunday's dinner, Thyrza caught sight of Totty Nancarrow entering a shop.

At once she said: 'I won't be late back, Lyddy.

I'm just going to walk a little way with Totty.' Lydia's face showed annoyance.
'Where is she ?' she asked, looking back.
'In the butcher's just there.' 'Don't go to-night, Thyrza.