They were only making conversation.
He had managed to move closer to her now.
She stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that looked faintly ironical, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to act.
The bluebells had cascaded on to the ground.
They seemed to have fallen of their own accord.
He took her hand.
'Would you believe,' he said, 'that till this moment I didn't know what colour your eyes were?' They were brown, he noted, a rather light shade of brown, with dark lashes. 'Now that you've seen what I'm really like, can you still bear to look at me?'
'Yes, easily.'
'I'm thirty-nine years old.
I've got a wife that I can't get rid of.
I've got varicose veins.
I've got five false teeth.'
'I couldn't care less,' said the girl.
The next moment, it was hard to say by whose act, she was in his arms.
At the beginning he had no feeling except sheer incredulity.
The youthful body was strained against his own, the mass of dark hair was against his face, and yes! actually she had turned her face up and he was kissing the wide red mouth.
She had clasped her arms about his neck, she was calling him darling, precious one, loved one.
He had pulled her down on to the ground, she was utterly unresisting, he could do what he liked with her.
But the truth was that he had no physical sensation, except that of mere contact.
All he felt was incredulity and pride.
He was glad that this was happening, but he had no physical desire.
It was too soon, her youth and prettiness had frightened him, he was too much used to living without women--he did not know the reason.
The girl picked herself up and pulled a bluebell out of her hair.
She sat against him, putting her arm round his waist.
'Never mind, dear.
There's no hurry.
We've got the whole afternoon.
Isn't this a splendid hide-out?
I found it when I got lost once on a community hike.
If anyone was coming you could hear them a hundred metres away.'
'What is your name?' said Winston.
'Julia.
I know yours.
It's Winston--Winston Smith.'
'How did you find that out?'
'I expect I'm better at finding things out than you are, dear.
Tell me, what did you think of me before that day I gave you the note?'
He did not feel any temptation to tell lies to her.
It was even a sort of love-offering to start off by telling the worst.
'I hated the sight of you,' he said.
'I wanted to rape you and then murder you afterwards.
Two weeks ago I thought seriously of smashing your head in with a cobblestone.
If you really want to know, I imagined that you had something to do with the Thought Police.'
The girl laughed delightedly, evidently taking this as a tribute to the excellence of her disguise.
'Not the Thought Police!
You didn't honestly think that?'
'Well, perhaps not exactly that.
But from your general appearance--merely because you're young and fresh and healthy, you understand--I thought that probably----'
'You thought I was a good Party member.
Pure in word and deed.