murmuring.
'Ah,' said the old man, 'I never had one of those things. Too
expensive. And I never seemed to feel the need of it, somehow. Now that's a
nice gateleg table in the corner there. Though of course you'd have to put
new hinges on it if you wanted to use the flaps.'
There was a small bookcase in the other corner, and Winston had
already gravitated towards it. It contained nothing but rubbish. The
hunting-down and destruction of books had been done with the same
thoroughness in the prole quarters as everywhere else. It was very unlikely
that there existed anywhere in Oceania a copy of a book printed earlier
than 1960. The old man, still carrying the lamp, was standing in front of a
picture in a rosewood frame which hung on the other side of the fireplace,
opposite the bed.
'Now, if you happen to be interested in old prints at al