О мышах и людях

           ButLenniemadeanelaboratepantomimeofinnocence. «Whatmouse,George?Iain’tgotnomouse.» 

           Georgeheldouthishand. «Comeon.Giveittome.Youain’tputtin’nothingover.» 

           Lenniehesitated,backedaway,lookedwildlyatthebrushlineasthoughhecontemplatedrunningforhisfreedom.Georgesaidcoldly, «YougonnagivemethatmouseordoIhavetosockyou?» 

           «Giveyouwhat,George?» 

           «YouknowGoddamnwellwhat.Iwantthatmouse.» 

           Lenniereluctantlyreachedintohispocket.Hisvoicebrokealittle. «Idon’tknowwhyIcan’tkeepit.Itain’tnobody’smouse.Ididn’tstealit.Ifounditlyin’rightbesidetheroad.» 

           George’shandremainedoutstretchedimperiously.Slowly,likeaterrierwhodoesn’twanttobringaballtoitsmaster,Lennieapproached,drewback,approachedagain.Georgesnappedhisfingerssharply,andatthesoundLennielaidthemouseinhishand. 

           «Iwasn’tdoin’nothingbadwithit,George.Jus’strokin’it.» 

           Georgestoodupandthrewthemouseasfarashecouldintothedarkeningbrush,andthenhesteppedtothepoolandwashedhishands. «Youcrazyfool.Don’tyouthinkIcouldseeyourfeetwaswetwhereyouwentacrosttherivertogetit?» HeheardLennie’swhimperingcryandwheeledabout. «Blubberin’likeababy!JesusChrist!Abigguylikeyou.»Lennie’slipquiveredandtearsstartedinhiseyes.