Violence and Mercy

If we could keep Curley in, we might. But Curley’s gonna want to shoot ’im. Curley’s still mad about his hand. An’ s’pose they lock him up an’ strap him down and put him in a cage. That ain’t no good, George.

"Lennie never done it in meanness," he said. "All the time he done bad things, but he never done one of ’em mean."

As happens sometimes, a moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment. And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment.

"I don’t want ta hurt you," he said, "but George’ll be mad if you yell." When she didn’t answer nor move he bent closely over her.

"... Here—feel right here." She took Lennie's hand and put it on her head. "Feel right aroun' there an' see how soft it is."

"Look out, now, you’ll muss it." And then she cried angrily, "You stop it now, you’ll mess it all up." She jerked her head sideways, and Lennie’s fingers closed on her hair and hung on.

George raised the gun and his hand shook, and he dropped his hand to the ground again.

You hadda, George. I swear you hadda.

"Never you mind," said Slim. "A guy got to sometimes."

Lennie jarred, and then settled slowly forward to the sand, and he lay without quivering.