human
Oh, a very long time ago —at too remote a date to be definitely remembered. She spoke of this man with foul-worded bitterness. It was not on account of the evil he had done her, but because he had not taken her to the show.
gpt
Men always cheat us, she said.
human
It don’t matter how foxy you are, they beat you to it. She had not burdened her memory with any precise record of her childish amours. They had been without pleasure—for an ice-cream cone, a few pennies, a chance to go to a show. She was a devotee of Bowery drama.
gpt
From Rags to Riches was her favorite.
human
That, she said,
gpt
Blackie. She had left her mother, without any regret, to live with him. That also had been
human
—at first. As near as she could remember, it was about a month before he drove her out on the street to
gpt
for him. Was he good to her, I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. Was he not a man? Then she showed her first enthusiasm. He had a great
human
he was a friend of the
gpt
Old Man on Fourteenth Street. She gave
human
Blackie this sincere tribute, the cops never troubled her. But he did have a temper.
gpt
It sure is hell, when he’s mad.