Lennie chuckled with pleasure. “You bet, by God,” he cried happily. “An' I had some, too.
A lady give me some, an' that lady was—my own Aunt Clara.
She give it right to me'bout this big a piece. I wisht I had that velvet right now.”
A frown came over his face. “I lost it,” he said. “I ain't seen it for a long time.”
Curley's wife laughed at him. “You're nuts,” she said. “But you're a kinda nice fella.
Jus' like a big baby. But a person can see kinda what you mean.
When I'm doin' my hair sometimes I jus' set an' stroke it 'cause it's so soft.”
To show how she did it, she ran her fingers over the top of her head.
“Some people got kinda coarse hair,” she said complacently. “Take Curley. His hair is jus' like wire.
But mine is soft and fine. 'Course I brush it a lot. That makes it fine. Here—feel right here.”
She took Lennie's hand and put it on her head. “Feel right aroun' there an' see how soft it is.”
Lennie's big fingers fell to stroking her hair. “Don't you muss it up,” she said.
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