jimjams

Jim had to cajole me, as it was already late, and I was lounging around in sweats, book in hand.

"So that is Jim Poindexter, the bloody villain," muttered the boy between his set teeth, and nervously fingering his revolver.

She has about as much intention of eloping with him as a little girl might have of eloping with a pasteboard Jim Crow.

If you were to have a frank explanation with her, Blanche would very soon throw Jim Crow out of the window.

He wrote the fine poem of “Little Jim,” which everyone knew, and which almost every boy and girl could recite.

There's a little one inside—so narrow and twisted, Jim, that even I can hardly walk straight up it but have to go sidewise.