It's no worse to be called Young Cassis than My-Boots, is it ?" "Of course not.

Young Cassis isn't an ugly name," observed the young woman.
And she questioned him about his work.

He was still working there, behind the octroi wall at the new hospital.

Oh! there was no want of work, he would not be finished there for a year at least.

There were yards and yards of gutters! "You know," said he, "I can see the Hotel Boncoeur when I'm up there.
Yesterday you were at the window, and I waved my arms, but you didn't notice me." They had already gone about a hundred paces along the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or, when he stood still and raising his eyes, said: "That's the house.