[L’Assommoir by Emile Zola]@TWC D-Link book
L’Assommoir

CHAPTER VII
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When, after the boiled beef, the stewed veal appeared, served in a salad-bowl, as they did not have a dish large enough, the party greeted it with a laugh.
"It's becoming serious," declared Poisson, who seldom spoke.
It was half-past seven.

They had closed the shop door, so as not to be spied upon by the whole neighborhood; the little clockmaker opposite especially was opening his eyes to their full size and seemed to take the pieces from their mouths with such a gluttonous look that it almost prevented them from eating.

The curtains hung before the windows admitted a great white uniform light which bathed the entire table with its symmetrical arrangement of knives and forks and its pots of flowers enveloped in tall collars of white paper; and this pale fading light, this slowly approaching dusk, gave to the party somewhat of an air of distinction.

Virginie looked round the closed apartment hung with muslin and with a happy criticism declared it to be very cozy.

Whenever a cart passed in the street the glasses jingled together on the table cloth and the ladies were obliged to shout out as loud as the men.


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