On these evenings it was a pretty sight.

Father drunk, mother drunk, a hell of a home that stunk with liquor, and where there was no bread.

To tell the truth, a saint would not have stayed in the place.

So much the worse if she flew the coop one of these days; her parents would have to say their _mea culpa_, and own that they had driven her out themselves.
One Saturday when Nana came home she found her father and her mother in a lamentable condition.

Coupeau, who had fallen across the bed was snoring.