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 A game of darts which was going on at the other end of the room interrupted itself for perhaps as much as thirty seconds.
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 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.
13 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.
14 On the far side of the room, sitting at a table alone, a small, curiously beetle-like man was drinking a cup of coffee, his little eyes darting suspicious glances from side to side.
15 From the table at Winston's left, a little behind his back, someone was talking rapidly and continuously, a harsh gabble almost like the quacking of a duck, which pierced the general uproar of the room.
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 A low-ceilinged, crowded room, its walls grimy from the contact of innumerable bodies; battered metal tables and chairs, placed so close together that you sat with elbows touching; bent spoons, dented trays, coarse white mugs; all surfaces greasy, grime in every crack; and a sourish, composite smell of bad gin and bad coffee and metallic stew and dirty clothes.
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