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Updated: May 21, 2025
She stretched out her arms. "Oh, slats! I'd give my teeth for a cigarette and a Manhattan cocktail. Wouldn't I, though!" Rhona shuddered. The woman turned toward her. "My name's Millie. Now we're pals, eh?" Then she rattled on: "First time in the workhouse? Comes hard at first, doesn't it? Cut off from friends and fun and ain't the work beastly? Say, Ronie, what's your job in little old New York?"
I do look a sight a fright. Gee!" She turned. "You're not so worse. A little pale, kid." She came over and sat next to Rhona. "What'll I call you?" Rhona shrank. She was a sensitive, ignorant girl, and did not understand this type of woman. Something coarse, familiar, vulgar seemed to grate against her. "Rhona's my name," she breathed. "Well, that's cute! Call you Ronie?"
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