[Lowland]

His pale-grey eyes flitted timorously from face to
face and turned quickly away again when he caught anyone's eye.
The door opened, and another prisoner was brought in whose appearance
sent a momentary chill through Winston. He was a commonplace, mean-looking
man who might have been an engineer or technician of some kind. But what
was startling was the emaciation of his face. It was like a skull. Because
of its thinness the mouth and eyes looked disproportionately large, and the
eyes seemed filled with a murderous, unappeasable hatred of somebody or
something.
The man sat down on the bench at a little distance from Winston.
Winston did not look at him again, but the tormented, skull-like face was
as vivid in his mind as though it had been straight in front of his eyes.
Suddenly he realized what was the matter. The man was dying of starvation.
The same thought seemed to occur almost simultaneously to everyone in the
cell. There was a very faint stirring all the way round the bench. The eyes
of the chinless man kept flitting towards the skull-faced man, then turning
guiltily away, then being dragged back by an i