1 Momentarily he caught O'Brien's eye.
2 Even O'Brien's heavy face was flushed.
3 Suddenly he began thinking of O'Brien again.
4 'I am with you,' O'Brien seemed to be saying to him.
5 It was O'Brien who had spoken to him out of the dark.
6 He had gone back to his cubicle without looking at O'Brien again.
7 Winston had seen O'Brien perhaps a dozen times in almost as many years.
8 He knew, with more certainty than before, that O'Brien was on his side.
9 O'Brien was a large, burly man with a thick neck and a coarse, humorous, brutal face.
10 The face of O'Brien, not called up by any obvious association, had floated into his mind.
11 Much more it was because of a secretly held belief--or perhaps not even a belief, merely a hope--that O'Brien's political orthodoxy was not perfect.
12 He felt deeply drawn to him, and not solely because he was intrigued by the contrast between O'Brien's urbane manner and his prize-fighter's physique.
13 Winston had never been able to feel sure--even after this morning's flash of the eyes it was still impossible to be sure whether O'Brien was a friend or an enemy.
14 The other person was a man named O'Brien, a member of the Inner Party and holder of some post so important and remote that Winston had only a dim idea of its nature.
15 At this moment O'Brien glanced at his wrist-watch, saw that it was nearly eleven hundred, and evidently decided to stay in the Records Department until the Two Minutes Hate was over.
16 He could not now remember whether it was before or after having the dream that he had seen O'Brien for the first time, nor could he remember when he had first identified the voice as O'Brien's.
17 He was writing the diary for O'Brien--TO O'Brien: it was like an interminable letter which no one would ever read, but which was addressed to a particular person and took its colour from that fact.
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