She had probably been born with her lame leg as a result of one of those times.
"Oh! it's scarcely anything, it's hardly perceptible," said Coupeau gallantly.
She shook her head; she knew well enough that it could be seen; at forty she would look broken in two.

Then she added gently, with a slight laugh: "It's a funny fancy of yours to fall in love with a cripple." With his elbows still on the table, he thrust his face closer to hers and began complimenting her in rather dubious language as though to intoxicate her with his words.

But she kept shaking her head "no," and didn't allow herself to be tempted although she was flattered by the tone of his voice.

While listening, she kept looking out the window, seeming to be fascinated by the interesting crowd of people passing.
The shops were now almost empty.

The grocer removed his last panful of fried potatoes from the stove.