He thought for a moment. “If he tangles with you, Lennie, we're gonna get the can.”
“Don't make no mistake about that. He's the boss's son.”
“Look, Lennie. You try to keep away from him, will you? Don't never speak to him.”
“If he comes in here you move clear to the other side of the room. Will you do that, Lennie?”
“I don't want no trouble,” Lennie mourned. “I never done nothing to him.”
Well, that won't do you no good if Curley wants to plug himself up for a fighter.”
Just don't have nothing to do with him. Will you remember?” “Sure, George. I ain't gonna say a word.
The sound of the approaching grain teams was louder, thud of big hooves on hard ground,
drag of brakes and the jingle of trace chains. Men were calling back and forth from the teams.
George, sitting on the bunk beside Lennie, frowned as he thought.
Lennie asked timidly, “You ain't mad, George?” “I ain't mad at you. I'm mad at this here Curley bastard.”
I hoped we was gonna get a little stake together—maybe a hundred dollars.
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