It's usually a very little thing that turns the scale, but now the end has come, I don't know that I'm sorry.

I've never had a good time, you see, and the struggle was slowly crushing the life out of me." Winston spoke quietly, without bitterness, but Courthorne, who had never striven at all but stretched out his hand and taken what was offered, the more willingly when it was banned alike by judicial and moral law, dimly understood him.

He was a fearless man, but he knew his courage would not have been equal to the strain of that six years' struggle against loneliness, physical fatigue, and adverse seasons, during which disaster followed disaster.

He looked at the bronzed farmer as he said, "Still, you would do a little in return for a hundred dollars that would help you to go on with the fight ?" A faint sparkle crept into Winston's eyes.

It was not hope, but rather the grim anticipation of the man offered a better weapon when standing with his back to the wall.
"Yes," he said slowly.