From the heights of Montmartre to the observatory plateau they scoured the whole town in the way we have been describing.

They were out on rainy evenings, when their boots got worn down, and on hot evenings, when their linen clung to their skins.

There were long periods of waiting and endless periods of walking; there were jostlings and disputes and the nameless, brutal caresses of the stray passer-by who was taken by them to some miserable furnished room and came swearing down the greasy stairs afterward.
The summer was drawing to a close, a stormy summer of burning nights.
The pair used to start out together after dinner, toward nine o'clock.
On the pavements of the Rue Notre Dame de la Lorette two long files of women scudded along with tucked-up skirts and bent heads, keeping close to the shops but never once glancing at the displays in the shopwindows as they hurried busily down toward the boulevards.

This was the hungry exodus from the Quartier Breda which took place nightly when the street lamps had just been lit.

Nana and Satin used to skirt the church and then march off along the Rue le Peletier.