1 Her body gleamed white in the sun.
2 He pulled the overalls aside and studied her smooth white flank.
3 His hair was almost white, but his eyebrows were bushy and still black.
4 Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed he barely looked at it.
5 And here's a loaf of bread--proper white bread, not our bloody stuff--and a little pot of jam.
6 Suddenly he became aware of Julia's face a few centimetres from his own, deathly white, as white as chalk.
7 A kilometre away the Ministry of Truth, his place of work, towered vast and white above the grimy landscape.
8 The passage down which he led them was softly carpeted, with cream-papered walls and white wainscoting, all exquisitely clean.
9 He remembered the room where they lived, a dark, close-smelling room that seemed half filled by a bed with a white counterpane.
10 A very old man, bent but active, with white moustaches that bristled forward like those of a prawn, pushed open the swing door and went in.
11 He was a small, dark-haired man in a white jacket, with a diamond-shaped, completely expressionless face which might have been that of a Chinese.
12 The old man had on a decent dark suit and a black cloth cap pushed back from very white hair: his face was scarlet and his eyes were blue and full of tears.
13 There were streaks of white in her hair; but the truly dreadful detail was that her mouth had fallen a little open, revealing nothing except a cavernous blackness.
14 It was a lean Jewish face, with a great fuzzy aureole of white hair and a small goatee beard--a clever face, and yet somehow inherently despicable, with a kind of senile silliness in the long thin nose, near the end of which a pair of spectacles was perched.
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 June sun was still high in the sky, and in the sun-filled court below, a monstrous woman, solid as a Norman pillar, with brawny red forearms and a sacking apron strapped about her middle, was stumping to and fro between a washtub and a clothes line, pegging out a series of square white things which Winston recognized as babies' diapers.
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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