1 It gave off a sickly, oily smell, as of Chinese rice-spirit.
2 In his mind the smell of it was inextricably mixed up with fornication.
3 Even before he had taken it he knew by the smell that it was very unusual chocolate.
4 He pushed open the door, and a hideous cheesy smell of sour beer hit him in the face.
5 Then a door banged, seeming to cut off the smell as abruptly as though it had been a sound.
6 Her head rested on his shoulder, the pleasant smell of her hair conquering the pigeon dung.
7 The proprietor had just lighted a hanging oil lamp which gave off an unclean but friendly smell.
8 From their grimy swing doors, endlessly opening and shutting, there came forth a smell of urine, sawdust, and sour beer.
9 The smell of her hair, the taste of her mouth, the feeling of her skin seemed to have got inside him, or into the air all round him.
10 From somewhere at the bottom of a passage the smell of roasting coffee--real coffee, not Victory Coffee--came floating out into the street.
11 From the grille at the counter the steam of stew came pouring forth, with a sour metallic smell which did not quite overcome the fumes of Victory Gin.
12 An overpowering smell of sweat, a sort of unconscious testimony to the strenuousness of his life, followed him about wherever he went, and even remained behind him after he had gone.
13 There was the usual boiled-cabbage smell, common to the whole building, but it was shot through by a sharper reek of sweat, which--one knew this at the first sniff, though it was hard to say how--was the sweat of some person not present at the moment.
14 He had hoped to be alone for a little while during the lunch hour, but as bad luck would have it the imbecile Parsons flopped down beside him, the tang of his sweat almost defeating the tinny smell of stew, and kept up a stream of talk about the preparations for Hate Week.
15 He saw himself standing there in the dim lamplight, with the smell of bugs and cheap scent in his nostrils, and in his heart a feeling of defeat and resentment which even at that moment was mixed up with the thought of Katharine's white body, frozen for ever by the hypnotic power of the Party.
16 The smell was already filling the room, a rich hot smell which seemed like an emanation from his early childhood, but which one did occasionally meet with even now, blowing down a passage-way before a door slammed, or diffusing itself mysteriously in a crowded street, sniffed for an instant and then lost again.
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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