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Updated: June 12, 2025
And I can hear the racking ragtime out of Shanley's. A big sightseeing bus is howling the fictitious lure of the Bowery, Chinatown and the Ghetto to gaping groups from the hinterlands. A streetwalker. Another. Another. In the subway entrance across the street, a blind man is selling papers.
He looked the fool and jackass he is. Why didn't you warn us he was a rotten thief, too?" "Wasn't it for shoplifting you served six months in Joliet?" retorted Mabel. "You lie you streetwalker!" screamed Violet. "Ladies! Ladies!" said Eshwell. "That's what I say," observed Pat. "I'm no lady," replied Mabel. "I'm an actress." "An actress he-he!" jeered Violet. "An actress!"
Now and then a streetwalker, roused early by a lover with perhaps a family waiting for him, hurried by, looking piteous in the daylight which showed up false and dyed hair, the layers of paint, the sad tawdriness of battered finery from the cheapest bargain troughs. Susan went slowly up Sixth Avenue. Two blocks, and she saw a girl enter the side door of a saloon across the way.
Then there was the grocer's wife, Madame Lehongre with her brother-in-law. Mon Dieu! What a slob of a fellow. He wasn't worth touching with a shovel. Even the neat little clockmaker was said to have carried on with his own daughter, a streetwalker. Ah, the entire neighborhood. Oh, she knew plenty of dirt.
On the square mission table in the center there was a lamp with a belaced pink shade at a cock-eyed angle which resembled the bonnet of a streetwalker in the early hours of the morning. An electric iron stood coldly beneath it with its wire attached to a fixture in the wall.
Ought she not to be grateful that she had so much that she was not one of a squalid quartette in a foul, vermin-infested back bedroom infested instead of only occasionally visited that she was not a streetwalker, diseased, prowling in all weathers, the prey of the coarse humors of contemptuous and usually drunken beasts; that she was not living where everyone about her would, by pity or out of spitefulness, tear open the wounds of that hideous brand which had been put upon her at birth?
No, no, Auguste, I did not intend to speak to you about it, but I know very well where you spent the night. I saw you go into the Grand-Balcon with that streetwalker Adele. You have made a charming choice. She wears fine clothes and is clean. Yes, and she has reason to be, certainly; there is not a man in that restaurant who does not know her far better than an honest girl should be known!"
Anyway, she could have been anything, a streetwalker, ugly, lazy and good-for-nothing, with a whole gang of dirty kids, and so what? He wanted her. "Yes, I want you," he repeated, bringing his hand down on his knee with a continuos hammering. "You understand, I want you. There's nothing to be said to that, is there?" Little by little, Gervaise gave way.
She wore a dress of faded green silk and a round hat which blows had dinted. The cool air of the night made her look very pale. "Egad, there's Satin," murmured Fauchery when his eye lit upon her. La Faloise questioned him. Oh dear, yes, she was a streetwalker she didn't count. But she was such a scandalous sort that people amused themselves by making her talk.
A woman who had been watching him for some time, and who knew from a wide experience that he was in one of those aching miseries which make men turn to such as she, slipped from the shadows and murmured to him. She was taller than he, and had to bend her long slender neck that he might hear. He hated her for being a streetwalker and for being taller than he, and began to swear at her.
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