kitchen soap

I washed with hard kitchen soap, rinsed my mouth out with water, and then pulled on Father Anton's nightshirt.

She touched his face with her fingertips and he caught the harsh smell of kitchen soap as it mingled with her cologne.

He used up many minutes in washing his hands; scoured them with gritty kitchen soap; rejoiced in hurting his plump knuckles.

Instead of the kitchen soap I usually used, I helped myself to Hattie's store of bath oils and fragrant soaps.

They went through a narrow opening in a thick wall to another corridor, not as clean as the first; there the man unlocked a door into a cabin - it was very like the dressing-room of a Russian bath - gave him a piece of kitchen soap no bigger than a match box and ordered him to wash.

I found a little tin bowl to wash in, and a block of green kitchen soap; and then - since there was no towel, and I didn't think it really polite to use the dish-cloth - I danced about before the range until I was dry enough to climb back into my dirty petticoats.