stirred
They 'ave stolen my 'eart awye!

The driveling song seemed to have kept its popularity. You still heard
it all over the place. It had outlived the Hate Song. Julia woke at the
sound, stretched herself luxuriously, and got out of bed.
'I'm hungry,' she said. 'Let's make some more coffee. Damn! The
stove's gone out and the water's cold.' She picked the stove up and shook
it. 'There's no oil in it.'
'We can get some from old Charrington, I expect.'
'The funny thing is I made sure it was full. I'm going to put my
clothes on,' she added. 'It seems to have got colder.'
Winston also got up and dressed himself. The indefatigable voice sang
on:

They sye that time 'eals all things,
They sye you can always forget;
But the smiles an' the tears acrorss the years
They twist my 'eart-strings yet!

As he fastened the belt of his overalls he strolled across to the
window. The sun must have gone down behind the houses; it was not shining
into the yard any longer. The flagstones were wet as though they had just
been washed, and he had the feeling that the sky had been washed too, so
fresh and pale was the blue between the chimney-pots. Tirelessly the woman
marched to and fro, corking and uncorking herself, singing and falling
silent, and pegging out more diapers, and more and yet more. He wondered
whether she took in washing for a living or was merely the slave of twenty
or thirty grandchildren. Julia had come across to his side; together they
gazed down with a sort of fascination at the sturdy figure below. As he
looked at the woman