But it was Madame Lorilleux especially who became more ill-tempered still.

She had a stain on the back of her dress; it was useless for the others to declare that she had not--she felt it.

And, by twisting herself about in front of a looking-glass, she ended by catching a glimpse of it.
"What did I say ?" cried she.

"It's gravy from the fowl.

The waiter shall pay for the dress.