1984 - Planet eBook

yourself you had the illusion of actually hearing bells, thebells of a lost London that still existed somewhere or other,disguised and forgotten. From one ghostly steeple after anotherhe seemed to hear them pealing forth. Yet so far ashe could remember he had never in real life heard churchbells ringing.He got away from Mr Charrington and went down thestairs alone, so as not to let the old man see him reconnoitringthe street before stepping out of the door. He hadalready made up his mind that after a suitable interval—amonth, say—he would take the risk of visiting the shopagain. It was perhaps not more dangerous than shirking anevening at the Centre. The serious piece of folly had been tocome back here in the first place, after buying the diary andwithout knowing whether the proprietor of the shop couldbe trusted. However——!Yes, he thought again, he would come back. He wouldbuy further scraps of beautiful rubbish. He would buy theengraving of St Clement Danes, take it out of its frame, andcarry it home concealed under the jacket of his overalls. Hewould drag the rest of that poem out of Mr Charrington’smemory. Even the lunatic project of renting the room upstairsflashed momentarily through his mind again. Forperhaps five seconds exaltation made him careless, and hestepped out on to the pavement without so much as a preliminaryglance through the window. He had even startedhumming to an improvised tuneOranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement’s, Youowe me three farthings, say the——