Just look, you fellows, she doesn't take long over it." "Will madame take another ?" asked Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst.
No, she had had enough.

Yet she hesitated.

The anisette had slightly bothered her stomach.

She should have taken straight brandy to settle her digestion.
She cast side glances at the drunkard manufacturing machine behind her.
That confounded pot, as round as the stomach of a tinker's fat wife, with its nose that was so long and twisted, sent a shiver down her back, a fear mingled with a desire.

Yes, one might have thought it the metal pluck of some big wicked woman, of some witch who was discharging drop by drop the fire of her entrails.