It was a last humiliation, the end of her pride.
One Saturday she had a hard job of it.

It had rained for three days and the customers seemed to have brought all the mud of the neighborhood into the shop on the soles of their boots.

Virginie was at the counter doing the grand, with her hair well combed, and wearing a little white collar and a pair of lace cuffs.

Beside her, on the narrow seat covered with red oil-cloth, Lantier did the dandy, looking for the world as if he were at home, as if he were the real master of the place, and from time to time he carelessly dipped his hand into a jar of peppermint drops, just to nibble something sweet according to his habit.
"Look here, Madame Coupeau!" cried Virginie, who was watching the scrubbing with compressed lips, "you have left some dirt over there in the corner.

Scrub that rather better please." Gervaise obeyed.