1984 - Planet eBook

ty-five to forty, tallish and thin, carrying a brief-case. Theywere a few metres apart when the left side of the man’s facewas suddenly contorted by a sort of spasm. It happenedagain just as they were passing one another: it was only atwitch, a quiver, rapid as the clicking of a camera shutter,but obviously habitual. He remembered thinking at thetime: That poor devil is done for. And what was frighteningwas that the action was quite possibly unconscious. Themost deadly danger of all was talking in your sleep. Therewas no way of guarding against that, so far as he could see.He drew his breath and went on writing:I went with her through the doorway and across a backyardinto a basement kitchen. There was a bed against the wall,and a lamp on the table, turned down very low. She——His teeth were set on edge. He would have liked to spit.Simultaneously with the woman in the basement kitchenhe thought of Katharine, his wife. Winston was married—had been married, at any rate: probably he still was married,so far as he knew his wife was not dead. He seemed tobreathe again the warm stuffy odour of the basement kitchen,an odour compounded of bugs and dirty clothes andvillainous cheap scent, but nevertheless alluring, becauseno woman of the Party ever used scent, or could be imaginedas doing so. Only the proles used scent. In his mind thesmell of it was inextricably mixed up with fornication.When he had gone with that woman it had been his firstlapse in two years or thereabouts. Consorting with prosti-