This time it was about a dirty window-pane, and on this particular morning, exasperated by the continuous gush of her reproaches, I flung an offensive word, and banged the door as I went off to work.

So Mame has had to weep all the day.

She has fostered and ruminated her spleen, and sniffed up her tears, even while busy with household duties.

Then, as the day declined, she put out the lamp and went to bed, with the object of sustaining and displaying her chagrin.
When I came in she was in the act of peeling invisible potatoes; there are potatoes scattered over the floor, everywhere.

My feet kick them and send them rolling heavily among odds and ends of utensils and a soft deposit of garments that are lying about.