"We don't want to know the color of her mantle.

The girl can have no end of lace; nevertheless she'll see the folly of loving." As Lantier seemed about to continue his reading, Salted-Mouth, otherwise Drink-without-Thirst, took the newspaper from him and sat upon it, saying: "Ah! no, that's enough! This is all the paper is good for." Meanwhile, My-Boots, who had been looking at his hand, triumphantly banged his fist down on the table.

He scored ninety-three.
"I've got the Revolution!" he exulted.
"You're out of luck, comrade," the others told Coupeau.
They ordered two fresh bottles.

The glasses were filled up again as fast as they were emptied, the booze increased.

Towards five o'clock it began to get disgusting, so much so that Lantier kept very quiet, thinking of how to give the others the slip; brawling and throwing the wine about was no longer his style.