They were all robbers anyway and it served them right to have to wait.

Well, she'd have to go bankrupt, but she didn't intend to fret about it now.
Meanwhile mother Coupeau had recovered.

For another year the household jogged along.

During the summer months there was naturally a little more work--the white petticoats and the cambric dresses of the street-walkers of the exterior Boulevard.

The catastrophe was slowly approaching; the home sank deeper into the mire every week; there were ups and downs, however--days when one had to rub one's stomach before the empty cupboard, and others when one ate veal enough to make one burst.