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had imagined it, she had torn her clothes off, and when she flung them aside it was with that same magnificent gesture by which a whole civilization seemed to be annihilated. Her body gleamed white in the sun. But for a moment he did not look at her body; his eyes were anchored by the freckled face with its faint, bold smile. He knelt down before her and took her hands in his. "Have you done this before?" "Of course. Hundreds of times—well, scores of times, anyway." "With Party members?" "Yes, always with Party members." "With members of the Inner Party?" "Not with those swine, no. But there's plenty that would if they got half a chance. They're not so holy as they make out." His heart leapt. Scores of times she had done it; he wished it had been hundreds—thousands. Anything that hinted at corruption always filled him with a wild hope. Who knew? Perhaps the Party was rotten under the surface, its cult of strenuousness and self-denial simply a sham concealing iniquity. If he could have infected the whole lot of them with leprosy or syphilis, how gladly he would have done so! Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine! He pulled her down so that they were kneeling face to face. "Listen. The more men you've had, the more I love you. Do you understand that?" "Yes, perfectly." "I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don't want any virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be corrupt to the bones." "Well then, I ought to suit you, dear. I'm corrupt to the bones." "You like doing this? I don't mean simply me; I mean the thing in itself?" "I adore it." That was above all what he wanted to hear. Not merely the love of one person, but the animal instinct, the simple undifferentiated desire: that was the force that would tear the Party to pieces. He pressed her down upon the grass, among the fallen bluebells. This time there was no difficulty. Presently the rising and falling of their breasts slowed to normal speed, and in a sort of pleasant helplessness they fell apart. The sun seemed to have grown hotter. They were both sleepy. He reached out for the discarded overalls and pulled them partly over her. Almost immediately they fell asleep and slept for about half an hour.
Winston woke first. He sat up and watched the freckled face, still peacefully asleep, pillowed on the palm of her hand. Except for her mouth, you could not call her beautiful. There was a line or two round the eyes, if you looked closely. The short dark hair was extraordinarily thick and soft. It occurred to him that he still did not know her surname or where she lived. The young, strong body, now helpless in sleep, awoke in him a pitying, protecting feeling. But the mindless tenderness that he had felt under the hazel tree, while the thrush was singing, had not quite come back. He pulled the overalls aside and studied her smooth white flank. In the old days, he thought, a man looked at a girl's body and saw that it was desirable, and that was the end of the story. But you could not have pure love or pure lust nowadays. No emotion was pure, because everything was mixed up with fear and hatred. Their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. It was a blow struck against the Party. It was a political act. III "WE CAN COME HERE once again," said Julia. "It's generally safe to use any hide-out twice. But not for another month or two, of course." As soon as she woke up her demeanor had changed. She became alert and businesslike, put her clothes on, knotted the scarlet sash about her waist, and began arranging the details of the journey home. It seemed natural to leave this to her. She obviously had a practical cunning which Winston lacked, and she seemed also to have an exhaustive knowledge of the countryside round London, stored away from innumerable community hikes. The route she gave him was quite different from the one by which he had come, and brought him out at a different railway station. "Never go home the same way as you went out," she said, as though enunciating an important general principle. She would leave first, and Winston was to wait half an hour before following her. She had named a place where they could meet after work, four evenings hence. It was a street in one of the poorer quarters, where there was an open market which was generally crowded and noisy. She would be hanging about among the stalls, pretending to be in search of shoelaces or sewing thread. If she judged that the coast was clear she would blow her nose when he approached; otherwise he was to walk past her without recognition. But with luck, in the middle of the crowd, it would be safe to talk for a quarter of an hour and arrange another meeting. "And now I must go," she said as soon as he had mastered his instructions. "I'm due back at nineteen-thirty. I've got to put in two hours for the Junior Anti-Sex League, handing out leaflets, or something. Isn't it bloody? Give me a brush-down, would you. Have I got any twigs in my hair? Are you sure? Then good-by, my love, good-by!" She flung herself into his arms, kissed him almost violently, and a moment later pushed her way through the saplings and disappeared into the wood with very little noise. Even now he had not found out her surname or her address. However, it made no difference, for it was inconceivable that they could ever meet indoors or exchange any kind of written communication.
- Page 86 and 87: the disposal of wastepaper. Similar
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- Page 98 and 99: Syme swallowed it. Was he, then, al
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- Page 106 and 107: The ideal set up by the Party was s
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- Page 124 and 125: Two IT WAS THE MIDDLE of the mornin
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- Page 130 and 131: "Yes." "Can you get Sunday afternoo
- Page 132 and 133: she turned round and looked at him
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- Page 184 and 185: also useful in keying up public mor
had imagined it, she had torn her clothes off, and when she flung them aside it was with that same<br />
magnificent gesture by which a whole civilization seemed to be annihilated. Her body gleamed white<br />
in the sun. But for a moment he did not look at her body; his eyes were anchored by the freckled face<br />
with its faint, bold smile. He knelt down before her and took her hands in his.<br />
"Have you done this before?"<br />
"Of course. Hundreds of times—well, scores of times, anyway."<br />
"With Party members?"<br />
"Yes, always with Party members."<br />
"With members of the Inner Party?"<br />
"Not with those swine, no. But there's plenty that would if they got half a chance. They're not so<br />
holy as they make out."<br />
His heart leapt. Scores of times she had done it; he wished it had been hundreds—thousands.<br />
Anything that hinted at corruption always filled him with a wild hope. Who knew? Perhaps the Party<br />
was rotten under the surface, its cult of strenuousness and self-denial simply a sham concealing<br />
iniquity. If he could have infected the whole lot of them with leprosy or syphilis, how gladly he would<br />
have done so! Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine! He pulled her down so that they were<br />
kneeling face to face.<br />
"Listen. The more men you've had, the more I love you. Do you understand that?"<br />
"Yes, perfectly."<br />
"I hate purity, I hate goodness! I don't want any virtue to exist anywhere. I want everyone to be<br />
corrupt to the bones."<br />
"Well then, I ought to suit you, dear. I'm corrupt to the bones."<br />
"You like doing this? I don't mean simply me; I mean the thing in itself?"<br />
"I adore it."<br />
That was above all what he wanted to hear. Not merely the love of one person, but the animal<br />
instinct, the simple undifferentiated desire: that was the force that would tear the Party to pieces. He<br />
pressed her down upon the grass, among the fallen bluebells. This time there was no difficulty.<br />
Presently the rising and falling of their breasts slowed to normal speed, and in a sort of pleasant<br />
helplessness they fell apart. The sun seemed to have grown hotter. They were both sleepy. He reached<br />
out for the discarded overalls and pulled them partly over her. Almost immediately they fell asleep<br />
and slept for about half an hour.
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