1 1984
a bluebell out of her hair. She sat against him, putting her
arm round his waist.
‘Never mind, dear. There’s no hurry. We’ve got the whole
afternoon. Isn’t this a splendid hide-out? I found it when I
got lost once on a community hike. If anyone was coming
you could hear them a hundred metres away.’
‘What is your name?’ said Winston.
‘Julia. I know yours. It’s Winston—Winston Smith.’
‘How did you find that out?’
‘I expect I’m better at finding things out than you are,
dear. Tell me, what did you think of me before that day I
gave you the note?’
He did not feel any temptation to tell lies to her. It was
even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.
‘I hated the sight of you,’ he said. ‘I wanted to rape you
and then murder you afterwards. Two weeks ago I thought
seriously of smashing your head in with a cobblestone. If
you really want to know, I imagined that you had some-
thing to do with the Thought Police.’
The girl laughed delightedly, evidently taking this as a
tribute to the excellence of her disguise.
‘Not the Thought Police! You didn’t honestly think that?’
‘Well, perhaps not exactly that. But from your general
appearance—merely because you’re young and fresh and
healthy, you understand—I thought that probably——’
‘You thought I was a good Party member. Pure in word
and deed. Banners, processions, slogans, games, commu-
nity hikes all that stuff. And you thought that if I had a
quarter of a chance I’d denounce you as a thought-criminal