“I should of knew,” George said hopelessly. “I guess maybe way back in my head I did.”
Candy asked, “What we gonna do now, George? What we gonna do now?”
George was a long time in answering. “Guess... we gotta tell the... guys.
I guess we gotta get 'im an' lock 'im up. We can't let 'im get away. Why, the poor bastard'd starve.”
And he tried to reassure himself. “Maybe they'll lock 'im up an' be nice to 'im.”
But Candy said excitedly, “We oughtta let 'im get away. You don't know that Curley.
Curley gon'ta wanta get 'im lynched. Curley'll get 'im killed.”
George watched Candy's lips. “Yeah,” he said at last, “that's right, Curley will. An' the other guys will.”
And he looked back at Curley's wife. Now Candy spoke his greatest fear.
“You an' me can get that little place, can't we, George? You an' me can go there an' live nice, can't we, George? Can't we?”
Before George answered, Candy dropped his head and looked down at the hay. He knew.
George said softly, “—I think I knowed from the very first. I think I knowed we'd never do her.
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