The people of the neighborhood had ended by greatly esteeming her, for one did not find many customers so kind as she was, paying punctually, never caviling or higgling.

She bought her bread of Madame Coudeloup, in the Rue des Poissonniers; her meat of stout Charles, a butcher in the Rue Polonceau; her groceries at Lehongre's, in the Rue de la Goutte-d'Or, almost opposite her own shop.

Francois, the wine merchant at the corner of the street, supplied her with wine in baskets of fifty bottles.

Her neighbor Vigouroux, whose wife's hips must have been black and blue, the men pinched her so much, sold coke to her at the same price as the gas company.

And, in all truth, her tradespeople served her faithfully, knowing that there was everything to gain by treating her well.
Besides, whenever she went out around the neighborhood, she was greeted everywhere.