Re: Hillary Will Chewing Gum

into the heart of the crowd. Soon he was within arm's length of the
girl, but the way was blocked by an enormous prole and an almost equally
enormous woman, presumably his wife, who seemed to form an impenetrable
wall of flesh. Winston wriggled himself sideways, and with a violent lunge
managed to drive his shoulder between them. For a moment it felt as though
his entrails were being ground to pulp between the two muscular hips, then
he had broken through, sweating a little. He was next to the girl. They
were shoulder to shoulder, both staring fixedly in front of them.
A long line of trucks, with wooden-faced guards armed with sub-machine
guns standing upright in each corner, was passing slowly down the street.
In the trucks little yellow men in shabby greenish uniforms were squatting,
jammed close together. Their sad, Mongolian faces gazed out over the sides
of the trucks utterly incurious. Occasionally when a truck jolted there was
a clank-clank of metal: all the prisoners were wearing leg-irons. Truck-
load after truck-load of the sad faces passed. Winston knew they were there
but he saw them only intermittently. The girl's shoulder, and her arm right
down to the elbow, were pressed against his. Her cheek was almost near
enough for him to feel its warmth. She had immediately taken charge of the
situation, just as she had done in the canteen. She began speaking in the
same expressionless voice as before, with lips barely moving, a mere murmur
easily drowned by the din of voices and the rumbling of the trucks.
'Can you hear me?'
'Yes.'
'Can you get Sunday afternoon off?'
'Yes.'
'Then listen carefully. You'll have to remember this. Go to Paddington
Station--'
With a sort of military precision that astonished him, she outlined
the route that he was to follow. A half-hour railway journey; turn left
outside the station; two kilometres along the road: a gate with the top bar
missing; a path across a fiel