Both men glanced up, for the rectangle of sunshine in the doorway was cut off.
A girl was standing there looking in. She had full, rouged lips and wide-spaced eyes, heavily made up.
Her fingernails were red. Her hair hung in little rolled clusters, like sausages.
She wore a cotton house dress and red mules, on the insteps of which were little bouquets of red ostrich feathers.
“I'm lookin' for Curley,” she said. Her voice had a nasal, brittle quality.
George looked away from her and then back. “He was in here a minute ago, but he went.”
“Oh!” She put her hands behind her back and leaned against the door frame so that her body was thrown forward.
“You're the new fellas that just come, ain't ya?” “Yeah.”
Lennie’s eyes moved down over her body, and though she did not seem to be looking at Lennie she bridled a little.
She looked at her fingernails. “Sometimes Curley’s in here,” she explained.
George said brusquely, “Well he ain’t now.” “If he ain’t, I guess I better look some place else,” she said playfully.
Lennie watched her, fascinated. George said, “If I see him, I’ll pass the word you was looking for him.”
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