Lennie smiled helplessly in an attempt to make friends.Crooks said sharply, “You got no right to come in my room. This here’s my room. Nobody got any right in here but me.”Lennie gulped and his smile grew more fawning. “I ain’t doing nothing,” he said. “Just come to look at my puppy. And I seen your light,” he explained.“Well, I got a right to have a light. You go on get outa my room. I ain’t wanted in the bunk house, and you ain’t wanted in my room.”
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.
Slim twitched George’s elbow. “Come on, George. Me an’ you’ll go in an’ get a drink.” George let himself be helped to his feet. “Yeah, a drink.” Slim said, “You hadda, George. I swear you hadda. Come on with me.” He led George into the entrance of the trail and up toward the highway.