Betty  Smith

“Hildy O’Dair is old for her age,” she thought. “It’s like powder was sprinkled on her yellow hair. But she’s not much older than me…thirty-two or three. She was eighteen when I was seventeen. You go your way and I’ll go my way. You mean you’ll go her way. Hildy, Hildy…he’s my feller, Katie Rommely…Hildy, Hildy…but she’s my best friend…I’m not much good, Hildy…I shouldn’t have led you on…you go your…Hildy, Hildy. Let her cry, let her cry,” thought Katie. “Someone who loved Johnny should cry for him and I can’t cry. Let her….” Katie, Johnny’s mother, and Francie and”

Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
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A Tree Grows in Brooklyn A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
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