Winston imagined there were no doubts, pain, nor fear. His body was healthy and strong. He walked easily, with a joy of movement and with a feeling of walking in sunlight, not in the narrow white corridors in the Ministry of Love.
He imagined an enormous sunlit passage, the Golden Country, following the foot-track across the old rabbit-cropped pasture.
He could feel the short springy turf under his feet and the gentle sunshine on his face. At the edge of the field were the elm trees, faintly stirring, and somewhere beyond was the stream under the willows.
Suddenly he started up with a shock of horror. The sweat broke out on his backbone. He had heard himself cry aloud:
‘Julia! Julia! Julia, my love! Julia!’
For a moment he had a hallucination of her presence. She had seemed to be not merely with him, but inside him. It was as though she had got into the texture of his skin.
In that moment he had loved her far more than he had ever done when they were together and free. Also he knew that somewhere or other she was still alive and needed his help.