О мышах и людях

           That’sjus’whatyousaystome.»

           GeorgeturnedtoLennie.«Itain’tyourfault,"hesaid.«Youdon’tneedtobescairtnomore.Youdonejus’whatItol’youto.Maybeyoubettergointhewashrooman’cleanupyourface.Youlooklikehell.»

           Lenniesmiledwithhisbruisedmouth.«Ididn’twantnotrouble,"hesaid.Hewalkedtowardthedoor,butjustbeforehecametoit,heturnedback.«George?»

           «Whatyouwant?»

           «Icanstilltendtherabbits,George?»

           «Sure.Youain’tdonenothingwrong.»

           «Idi’n’tmeannoharm,George.»

           «Well,getthehelloutandwashyourface.»

           Crooks,theNegrostablebuck,hadhisbunkintheharnessroom;alittleshedthatleanedoffthewallofthebarn.Ononesideofthelittleroomtherewasasquarefour-panedwindow,andontheother,anarrowplankdoorleadingintothebarn.Crooks’bunkwasalongboxfilledwithstraw,onwhichhisblanketswereflung.Onthewallbythewindowtherewerepegsonwhichhungbrokenharnessinprocessofbeingmended;stripsofnewleather;andunderthewindowitselfalittlebenchforleather-workingtools,curvedknivesandneedlesandballsoflinenthread,andasmallhandriveter.Onpegswerealsopiecesofharness,asplitcollarwiththehorsehairstuffingstickingout,abrokenhame,andatracechainwithitsleathercoveringsplit.Crookshadhisappleboxoverhisbunk,andinitarangeofmedicinebottles,bothforhimselfandforthehorses.