In so fair a world Hope is ever a returning angel with healing in his wings; and Winston's face brightened, the black frown deserting his forehead, all sternness gone from his eyes.

There surely must be a way somewhere, and he would discover it; only the weakling and the coward can sit down in despair.

Out of the prevailing silence he suddenly distinguished voices at hand, and the sound awoke him to partial interest.

Just before the door where he stood a thick growth of bushes obstructed the view.

The voices he heard indistinctly came from beyond, and he stepped cautiously forward, peering in curiosity between the parted branches.
It was a narrow section of the ledge, hemmed in by walls of rock and thinly carpeted with grass, a small fire burning near its centre.
There was an appetizing smell of cookery in the air, and three figures were plainly discernible.