He must do so because he loved her so much.
Whilst he stuttered he tried to get round the heap of petticoats and stumbled against the pile of chemises; then as he obstinately persisted his feet caught together and he fell flat, his nose in the midst of the dish-cloths.

Gervaise, beginning to lose her temper pushed him, saying that he was mixing all the things up.

But Clemence and even Madame Putois maintained that she was wrong.

It was very nice of him after all.
He wanted to kiss her.

She might very well let herself be kissed.
"You're lucky, you are, Madame Coupeau," said Madame Bijard, whose drunkard of a husband, a locksmith, was nearly beating her to death each evening when he came in.