knew, was
inviting him with a smile to a vacant place at his table. It was not safe
to refuse. After having been recognized, he could not go and sit at a table
with an unattended girl. It was too noticeable. He sat down with a friendly
smile. The silly blond face beamed into his. Winston had a hallucination of
himself smashing a pick-axe right into the middle of it. The girl's table
filled up a few minutes later.
But she must have seen him coming towards her, and perhaps she would
take the hint. Next day he took care to arrive early. Surely enough, she
was at a table in about the same place, and again alone. The person
immediately ahead of him in the queue was a small, swiftly-moving, beetle-
like man with a flat face and tiny, suspicious eyes. As Winston turned away
from the counter with his tray, he saw that the little man was making
straight for the girl's table. His hopes sank again. There was a vacant
place at a table further away, but something in the little man's appearance
suggested that he would be sufficiently attentive to his own comfort to
choose the emptiest table. With ice at his heart Winston followed. It was
no use unless he could get the girl alone. At this moment there was a
tremendous crash. The little man was sprawling on all fours, his tray had
gone flying, two streams of soup and coffee were flowing across the floor.
He started to his feet with a malignant glance at Winston, whom he
evidently suspected of having tripped him up. But it was all right. Five
seconds later, with a thundering heart, Winston was sitting at the girl's
table.
He did not look at her. He unpacked his tray and promptly began
eating. It was all-important to speak at once, before anyone else came, but
now a terrible fear had taken possession of him. A week had gone by since
she had first approached him. S