Mike Lalonde
 

Cromwell. At five minutes past the hour the girl had still not appeared.
Again the terrible fear seized upon Winston. She was not coming, she had
changed her mind! He walked slowly up to the north side of the square and
got a sort of pale-coloured pleasure from identifying St. Martin's Church,
whose bells, when it had bells, had chimed 'You owe me three farthings.'
Then he saw the girl standing at the base of the monument, reading or
pretending to read a poster which ran spirally up the column. It was not
safe to go near her until some more people had accumulated. There were
telescreens all round the pediment. But at this moment there was a din of
shouting and a zoom of heavy vehicles from somewhere to the left. Suddenly
everyone seemed to be running across the square. The girl nipped nimbly
round the lions at the base of the monument and joined in the rush. Winston
followed. As he ran, he gathered from some shouted remarks that a convoy of
Eurasian prisoners was passing.
Already a dense mass of people was blocking the south side of the
square. Winston, at normal times the kind of person who gravitates to the
outer edge of any kind of scrimmage, shoved, butted, squirmed his way
forward into the heart of the crowd. Soon he was within arm's length of the
girl, but the way was blocked by an enormous prole and an almost equally
enormous woman, presumably his wife, who seemed to form an impenetrable
wall of flesh. Winston wriggled himself sideways, and with a violent lunge
managed to drive his shoulder be