She gradually abandoned herself to him, dizzy from the slight faintness caused by the heap of clothes and not minding Coupeau's foul-smelling breath.

The long kiss they exchanged on each other's mouths in the midst of the filth of the laundress's trade was perhaps the first tumble in the slow downfall of their life together.
Madame Bijard had meanwhile been tying the laundry up into bundles and talking about her daughter, Eulalie, who at two was as smart as a grown woman.

She could be left by herself; she never cried or played with matches.

Finally Madame Bijard took the laundry away a bundle at a time, her face splotched with purple and her tall form bent under the weight.
"This heat is becoming unbearable, we're roasting," said Gervaise, wiping her face before returning to Madame Boche's cap.
They talked of boxing Augustine's ears when they saw that the stove was red-hot.

The irons, also, were getting in the same condition.