[levy pierre]

again, and the knot of men at the bar had
begun talking about lottery tickets. Winston's presence was forgotten for a
moment. There was a deal table under the window where he and the old man
could talk without fear of being overheard. It was horribly dangerous, but
at any rate there was no telescreen in the room, a point he had made sure
of as soon as he came in.
''E could 'a drawed me off a pint,' grumbled the old man as he settled
down behind a glass. 'A 'alf litre ain't enough. It don't satisfy. And a
'ole litre's too much. It starts my bladder running. Let alone the price.'
'You must have seen great changes since you were a young man,' said
Winston tentatively.
The old man's pale blue eyes moved from the darts board to the bar,
and from the bar to the door of the Gents, as though it were in the bar-
room that he expected the changes to have occurred.
'The beer was better,' he said finally. 'And cheaper! When I was a
young man, mild beer -- wallop we used to call it -- was fourpence a pint.
That was before the war, of course.'
'Which war was that?' said Winston.
'It's all wars,' said the old man vaguely. He took up his glass, and
his shoulders straightened again. ''Ere's wishing you the very best of
'ealth!'
In his lean throat the sharp-pointed Adam's apple made a surprisingly
rapid up-and-down movement, and the beer vanished. Winston went to the bar
and came back with two more half-litres. The old man appeared to have
forgotten his prejudice against drinking a full litre.
'You are very much older than I am,' said Winston. 'You must have been
a grown man before I was born. You can remember what it was like in the old
days, before the Revolution. People of my age don't really know anything
about those times. We can only read about them in books, and what it sa