Indeed, the bustle of the city was reassuring: not for the inhabitants of this place a ten-of-the-clock attendance on their tasks. On being admitted to Winston’s chambers – a busy apiary of small offices staffed by men all engaged in various commodity trades – claiming to have been at work for several hours he immediately proposed to whisk his visitor off to a large and satisfying breakfast, refusing to allow Pearce to demur, only popping his head into an adjacent room to ask that another visitor he was expecting be requested to call back. ‘Tell him I will send word of a convenient time. Now come, let us eat, for I am hollow.’ His description of the breakfast, of John Dory fillets followed by a pair of mutton chops, the whole washed down with a robust claret, was not mistaken and the first question, once they were settled at their board in a tavern crowded with like souls, was an obvious one. ‘My friends are safe, if you can call being confined in the Liberties such a thing.’ ‘Protections?’ ‘Valid and in their possession.’ ‘That is good to hear, so let us toast their health properly this time.’ Goblets raised they both drank deeply.
