1 He crossed the room into the tiny kitchen.
2 The room was already very full and deafeningly noisy.
3 He cleaned his fingers as best he could in the cold water from the tap and went back into the other room.
4 DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER was written all over it, in letters almost big enough to be legible across the room.
5 It was partly the unusual geography of the room that had suggested to him the thing that he was now about to do.
6 The Ministry of Truth contained, it was said, three thousand rooms above ground level, and corresponding ramifications below.
7 On the far side of the room there was a small bar, a mere hole in the wall, where gin could be bought at ten cents the large nip.
8 Before the Hate had proceeded for thirty seconds, uncontrollable exclamations of rage were breaking out from half the people in the room.
9 Instead of being placed, as was normal, in the end wall, where it could command the whole room, it was in the longer wall, opposite the window.
10 Similar slits existed in thousands or tens of thousands throughout the building, not only in every room but at short intervals in every corridor.
11 The next moment a hideous, grinding speech, as of some monstrous machine running without oil, burst from the big telescreen at the end of the room.
12 There was a gas ring in the fender, and a shelf where food was kept, and on the landing outside there was a brown earthenware sink, common to several rooms.
13 Winston was just taking his place in one of the middle rows when two people whom he knew by sight, but had never spoken to, came unexpectedly into the room.
14 In another room someone with a comb and a piece of toilet paper was trying to keep tune with the military music which was still issuing from the telescreen.
15 In the labyrinthine Ministry the windowless, air-conditioned rooms kept their normal temperature, but outside the pavements scorched one's feet and the stench of the Tubes at the rush hours was a horror.
16 They threaded their way across the crowded room and unpacked their trays on to the metal-topped table, on one corner of which someone had left a pool of stew, a filthy liquid mess that had the appearance of vomit.
17 In any time that he could accurately remember, there had never been quite enough to eat, one had never had socks or underclothes that were not full of holes, furniture had always been battered and rickety, rooms underheated, tube trains crowded, houses falling to pieces, bread dark-coloured, tea a rarity, coffee filthy-tasting, cigarettes insufficient--nothing cheap and plentiful except synthetic gin.
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