The vistas of the avenues seemed to empty her stomach all the more.

And to think that among this flood of people there were many in easy circumstances, and yet not a Christian who could guess her position, and slip a ten sous piece into her hand! Yes, it was too great and too beautiful; her head swam and her legs tottered under this broad expanse of grey sky stretched over so vast a space.

The twilight had the dirty-yellowish tinge of Parisian evenings, a tint that gives you a longing to die at once, so ugly does street life seem.

The horizon was growing indistinct, assuming a mud-colored tinge as it were.

Gervaise, who was already weary, met all the workpeople returning home.