Then Coupeau thrust out his hands, trying to touch her bare flesh.
"Madame! Madame!" cried Clemence, "do make him leave off! I shall go away if it continues.

I won't be intimated." Gervaise glanced over just as her husband's hands began to explore inside the chemise.
"Really, Coupeau, you're too foolish," said she, with a vexed air, as though she were scolding a child who persisted in eating his jam without bread.

"You must go to bed." "Yes, go to bed, Monsieur Coupeau; it will be far better," exclaimed Madame Putois.
"Ah! Well," stuttered he, without ceasing to chuckle, "you're all precious particular! So one mustn't amuse oneself now?
Women, I know how to handle them; I'll only kiss them, no more.

One admires a lady, you know, and wants to show it.

And, besides, when one displays one's goods, it's that one may make one's choice, isn't it?
Why does the tall blonde show everything she's got?
It's not decent." And turning towards Clemence, he added: "You know, my lovely, you're wrong to be to very insolent.