Winston recalled the last and only time he had seen Julia. How they had walked towards the Tube station, how she walked quickly ahead and he meandered so that they would be separated.
Although the street was not crowded, Winston he could not distinguish Julia from a dozen hurrying figures. Perhaps her thickened, stiffened body was no longer recognizable from behind.
Or more honestly he was removing her from his mind, his memory.
As he stood, he replayed the words she had said in relation to the torture.
‘At the time when it happens, ‘you do mean it.’
He had meant it. He had not merely said it, he had wished it. He had wished that she and not he should be delivered over to the —
Suddenly Winston flashes to now.
The music that trickled from the telescreen was different. He wasn’t sure, thinking that perhaps it was only a memory taking on the semblance of sound — a voice was singing:
‘Under the spreading chestnut tree
I sold you and you sold me –‘
The tears welled up in his eyes. A passing waiter noticed that his glass was empty and came back with the gin bottle.
There is a part of Winston which knows that the torture was designed to destroy his relationship with Julia. She had been the only person in his life, the one who was real to him, the only one he had loved.
Now, he loved no one. Now he was alone. Without even his thoughts.