1 1984
Chapter 8
T
hey had done it, they had done it at last!
The room they were standing in was long-shaped and
softly lit. The telescreen was dimmed to a low murmur; the
richness of the dark-blue carpet gave one the impression of
treading on velvet. At the far end of the room O’Brien was
sitting at a table under a green-shaded lamp, with a mass of
papers on either side of him. He had not bothered to look up
when the servant showed Julia and Winston in.
Winston’s heart was thumping so hard that he doubted
whether he would be able to speak. They had done it, they
had done it at last, was all he could think. It had been a rash
act to come here at all, and sheer folly to arrive together;
though it was true that they had come by different routes
and only met on O’Brien’s doorstep. But merely to walk into
such a place needed an effort of the nerve. It was only on
very rare occasions that one saw inside the dwelling-plac-
es of the Inner Party, or even penetrated into the quarter
of the town where they lived. The whole atmosphere of the
huge block of flats, the richness and spaciousness of every-
thing, the unfamiliar smells of good food and good tobacco,
the silent and incredibly rapid lifts sliding up and down, the
white-jacketed servants hurrying to and fro—everything
was intimidating. Although he had a good pretext for com-
ing here, he was haunted at every step by the fear that a
