“Le’s see your hands,” he asked. Lennie stuck out his hands.
“Christ awmighty, I hate to have you mad at me,” Slim said.
George broke in, “Lennie was jus’ scairt,” he explained. “He didn’t know what to do.”
“I told you nobody ought never to fight him. No, I guess it was Candy I told.”
Candy nodded solemnly. “That’s jus’ what you done,” he said.
“Right this morning when Curley first lit into your fren’, you says, ‘He better not fool with Lennie if he knows what’s good for ’um.’”
“That’s jus’ what you says to me.” George turned to Lennie.
“It ain’t your fault,” he said. “You don’t need to be scairt no more.”
“You done jus’ what I tol’ you to. Maybe you better go in the wash room an’ clean up your face. You look like hell.”
Lennie smiled with his bruised mouth. “I didn’t want no trouble,” he said.
He walked toward the door, but just before he came to it, he turned back.
“George?” “What you want?” “I can still tend the rabbits, George?” “Sure. You ain’t done nothing wrong.”
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