is caught up
looking at the woman in the yard below the room over Charington's shop and he is caught in the
reverie of trying to imagine what her life must have been. He is also struck by what he
perceives as her beauty even though she is old and reddened and fat and hardened over
time.
But it is because of her apparently eternal optimism, still evident in
her singing after years and years of bearing and then caring for children and then grandchildren
and even now as she toils unceasingly she sings. And so Winston believes that the proles or the
concept of them is eternal, what could ever destroy this stalwart woman and her
kind?
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