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- Джон Стейнбек
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- О мышах и людях
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Crooks
settled
himself
more
comfortably
on
his
bunk
.
«
Set
down
,
"
he
invited
.
«
Set
down
on
the
nail
keg
.
»
Lennie
hunched
down
on
the
little
barrel
.
«
You
think
it
’
s
a
lie
,
"
Lennie
said
.
«
But
it
ain
’
t
no
lie
.
Ever
’
word
’
s
the
truth
,
an
’
you
can
ast
George
.
»
Crooks
put
his
dark
chin
into
his
pink
palm
.
«
You
travel
aroun
’
with
George
,
don
’
t
ya
?
»
«
Sure
.
Me
an
’
him
goes
ever
’
place
together
.
»
Crooks
continued
.
«
Sometimes
he
talks
,
and
you
don
’
t
know
what
the
hell
he
’
s
talkin
’
about
.
Ain
’
t
that
so
?
»
He
leaned
forward
,
boring
Lennie
with
his
deep
eyes
.
«
Ain
’
t
that
so
?
»
«
Yeah
.
.
.
sometimes
.
»
«
Jus
’
talks
on
,
an
’
you
don
’
t
know
what
the
hell
it
’
s
all
about
?
»
«
Yeah
.
.
.
sometimes
.
But
.
.
.
not
always
.
»
Crooks
leaned
forward
over
the
edge
of
the
bunk
.
«
I
ain
’
t
a
southern
Negro
,
"
he
said
.
«
I
was
born
right
here
in
California
.
My
old
man
had
a
chicken
ranch
,
‘
bout
ten
acres
.
The
white
kids
come
to
play
at
our
place
,
an
’
sometimes
I
went
to
play
with
them
,
and
some
of
them
was
pretty
nice
.
My
ol
’
man
didn
’
t
like
that
.
I
never
knew
till
long
later
why
he
didn
’
t
like
that
.
But
I
know
now
.
»
He
hesitated
,
and
when
he
spoke
again
his
voice
was
softer
.
«
There
wasn
’
t
another
colored
family
for
miles
around
.
And
now
there
ain
’
t
a
colored
man
on
this
ranch
an
’
there
’
s
jus
’
one
family
in
Soledad
.
»
He
laughed
.
«
If
I
say
something
,
why
it
’
s
just
a
nigger
sayin
’
it
.
»
