was heavy upon him. Even now it
seemed quite likely that when she turned round and looked at him she would
draw back after all. The sweetness of the air and the greenness of the
leaves daunted him. Already on the walk from the station the May sunshine
had made him feel dirty and etiolated, a creature of indoors, with the
sooty dust of London in the pores of his skin. It occurred to him that till
now she had probably never seen him in broad daylight in the open. They
came to the fallen tree that she had spoken of. The girl hopped over and
forced apart the bushes, in which there did not seem to be an opening. When
Winston followed her, he found that they were in a natural clearing, a tiny
grassy knoll surrounded by tall saplings that shut it in completely. The
girl stopped and turned.
'Here we are,' she said.
He was facing her at several paces" distance. As yet he did not dare
move nearer to her.
'I didn't want to say anything in the lane,' she went on, 'in case
there's a mike hidden there. I don't suppose there is, but there could be.
There's always the chance of one of those swine recognizing your voice.
We're all right here.'
He still had not the courage to approach her. 'We're all right here?'
he repeated stupidly.
'Yes. Look at the trees.' They were small ashes, which at some time
had been cut down and had sprouted up again into a forest of poles, none of
them thicker than one's wrist. 'There's nothing big enough to hide a mike
in. Besides, I've been here before.'
They were only making conversation. He