‘Did you ever happen to hear an old rhyme that begins ‘Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement’s’?’ Again O’Brien nodded. With a sort of grave courtesy he completed the stanza:
‘Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement’s,
You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St Martin’s,
When will you pay me? say the bells of Old Bailey,
When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch.’
‘You knew the last line!’ said Winston. ‘Yes, I knew the last line. And now, I am afraid, it is time for you to go. But wait. You had better let me give you one of these tablets.’