‘Have you done this before?’
‘Of course. Hundreds of times—well, scores of times, anyway.’ ‘With Party members?’ ‘Yes, always with Party members.’ ‘With members of the Inner Party?’ ‘Not with those swine, no. But there’s plenty that WOULD if they got half a chance. They’re not so holy as they make out.’
His heart leapt. Scores of times she had done it: he wished it had been hundreds—thousands. Anything that hinted at corruption always filled him with a wild hope. Who knew, perhaps the Party was rotten under the surface, its cult of strenuousness and self-denial simply a sham concealing iniquity. If he could have infected the whole lot of them with leprosy or syphilis, how gladly he would have done so! Anything to rot, to weaken, to undermine! He pulled her down so that they were kneeling face to face.