They were wringing between them, one at each end, a woolen skirt of a washed-out chestnut color, from which dribbled a yellowish water, when Madame Boche exclaimed: "Why, there's tall Virginie! What has she come here to wash, when all her wardrobe that isn't on her would go into a pocket handkerchief ?" Gervaise jerked her head up.

Virginie was a girl of her own age, taller than she was, dark and pretty in spite of her face being rather long and narrow.

She had on an old black dress with flounces, and a red ribbon round her neck; and her hair was done up carefully, the chignon being enclosed in a blue silk net.

She stood an instant in the middle of the central alley, screwing up her eyes as though seeking someone; then, when she caught sight of Gervaise, she passed close to her, erect, insolent, and with a swinging gait, and took a place in the same row, five tubs away from her.
"There's a freak for you!" continued Madame Boche in a lower tone of voice.

"She never does any laundry, not even a pair of cuffs.