“Don’t tell nobody,” Lennie said to himself. Candy said, “George.” “Huh?”
“I ought to of shot that dog myself, George. I shouldn’t ought to of let no stranger shoot my dog.”
The door opened. Slim came in, followed by Curley and Carlson and Whit.
Slim’s hands were black with tar and he was scowling. Curley hung close to his elbow.
Curley said, “Well, I didn’t mean nothing, Slim. I just ast you.”
Slim said, “Well, you been askin’ me too often. I’m gettin’ God damn sick of it.
If you can’t look after your own God damn wife, what you expect me to do about it? You lay offa me.”
“I’m jus’ tryin’ to tell you I didn’t mean nothing,” said Curley. “I jus’ thought you might of saw her.”
“Why’n’t you tell her to stay the hell home where she belongs?” said Carlson.
“You let her hang around bunk houses and pretty soon you’re gonna have som’pin on your hands and you won’t be able to do nothing about it.”
Curley whirled on Carlson. “You keep outta this les’ you wanta step outside.”
Carlson laughed. “You God damn punk,” he said. “You tried to throw a scare into Slim, an’ you couldn’t make it stick.
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