hikes all that stuff. And
you thought that if I had a quarter of a chance I'd denounce you as a
thought-criminal and get you killed off?'
'Yes, something of that kind. A great many young girls are like that,
you know.'
'It's this bloody thing that does it,' she said, ripping off the
scarlet sash of the Junior Anti-Sex League and flinging it on to a bough.
Then, as though touching her waist had reminded her of something, she felt
in the pocket of her overalls and produced a small slab of chocolate. She
broke it in half and gave one of the pieces to Winston. Even before he had
taken it he knew by the smell that it was very unusual chocolate. It was
dark and shiny, and was wrapped in silver paper. Chocolate normally was
dull-brown crumbly stuff that tasted, as nearly as one could describe it,
like the smoke of a rubbish fire. But at some time or another he had tasted
chocolate like the piece she had given him. The first whiff of its scent
had stirred up some memory which he could not pin down, but which was
powerful and troubling.
'Where did you get this stuff?' he said.
'Black market,' she said indifferently. 'Actually I am that sort of
girl, to look at. I'm good at games. I was a troop-leader in the Spies. I
do voluntary work three evenings a week for the Junior Anti-Sex League.
Hours and hours I've spent pasting their bloody rot all over London. I
always carry one end of a banner in the processions. I always Iook cheerful
and I never shirk anything. Always yell with the crowd, that's what I say.
It's the only way to be safe.'
The first fragment of chocolate had melted on Winston's tong