Silly ain't no name for him, with his square, Charley-boy face and polished hair; and- You let him alone, Hattie krakow!
"Every Soul Hath Its Song"
Fannie Hurst
Miss krakow let out a snort, as fiery with scorn as though flames were curling on her lips.
"Every Soul Hath Its Song"
Fannie Hurst
Miss krakow folded her well-worn hand-bag under one arm and fastened her black cotton gloves.
"Every Soul Hath Its Song"
Fannie Hurst