The squint-eyed imp rushed in all red-faced and out of breath with snow all in her hair.

She didn't mind the scolding she received, merely saying that she hadn't been able to walk fast because of the ice and then some brats threw snow at her.
The afternoons were all the same these winter days.

The laundry was the refuge for anyone in the neighborhood who was cold.

There was an endless procession of gossiping women.

Gervaise took pride in the comforting warmth of her shop and welcomed those who came in, "holding a salon," as the Lorilleuxs and the Boches remarked meanly.
Gervaise was always thoughtful and generous.