“You don't know that we got our own ranch to go to, an' our own house. We ain't got to stay here.”
“We gotta house and chickens an' fruit trees an' a place a hunderd times prettier than this. An' we got fren's, that's what we got.”
“Maybe there was a time when we was scared of gettin' canned, but we ain't no more.”
“We got our own lan', and it's ours, an' we c'n go to it.” Curley's wife laughed at him.
“Baloney,” she said. “I seen too many you guys. If you had two bits in the worl',”
“why you'd be in gettin' two shots of corn with it and suckin' the bottom of the glass. I know you guys.”
Candy's face had grown redder and redder, but before she was done speaking, he had control of himself.
He was the master of the situation. “I might of knew,” he said gently. “Maybe you just better go along an' roll your hoop.”
“We ain't got nothing to say to you at all. We know what we got, and we don't care whether you know it or not.”
“So maybe you better jus' scatter along now, 'cause Curley maybe ain't gonna like his wife out in the barn with us bindle stiffs.”
She looked from one face to another, and they were all closed against her.
And she looked longest at Lennie, until he dropped his eyes in embarrassment.
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