[Tom's VR6]

and reckoned she could hear twice as much as with her
ear to the hole. Of course it's only a toy, mind you. Still, gives 'em the
right idea, eh?'
At this moment the telescreen let out a piercing whistle. It was the
signal to return to work. All three men sprang to their feet to join in the
struggle round the lifts, and the remaining tobacco fell out of Winston's
cigarette.



VI

Winston was writing in his diary:

It was three years ago. It was on a dark evening, in a narrow side-
street near one of the big railway stations. She was standing near a
doorway in the wall, under a street lamp that hardly gave any light. She
had a young face, painted very thick. It was really the paint that appealed
to me, the whiteness of it, like a mask, and the bright red lips. Party
women never paint their faces. There was nobody else in the street, and no
telescreens. She said two dollars. I--

For the moment it was too difficult to go on. He shut his eyes and
pressed his fingers against them, trying to squeeze out the vision that
kept recurring. He had an almost overwhelming temptation to shout a string
of filthy words at the top of his voice. Or to bang his head against the
wall, to kick over the table, and hurl the inkpot through the window -- to
do any violent or noisy or painful thing that might black out the memory
that was tormenting him.
Your worst enemy, he reflected, was your own nervous system. At any
moment the tension inside you was liable