"As though I'd been saying something shocking," thought Lenina. "Hadn't we better talk about it somewhere else?" he stammered, looking horribly uncomfortable.
"What on earth for?" she wondered, astonished, but at the same time touched by this strange tribute to her power. Fanny ought to be pleased, even though it was Bernard.) "That is," Lenina gave him her most deliciously significant smile, "if you still want to have me." Bernard's pale face flushed. (Anyhow, she was publicly proving her unfaithfulness to Henry. Then aloud, and more warmly than ever, "I'd simply love to come with you for a week in July," she went on. "Surprised I shouldn't be begging to go with him again!" she said to herself. "I wanted to talk to you about our New Mexico plan." Out of the tail of her eye she could see Benito Hoover gaping with astonishment. "I was looking for you." Her voice rang clear above the hum of the mounting lift. Turning, with eyes a little saddened by the recollection, of Benito's curly blackness, she saw in a corner the small thin body, the melancholy face of Bernard Marx. And looking at Benito Hoover, she couldn't help remembering that he was really too hairy when he took his clothes off. Charming boys! Still, she did wish that George Edzel's ears weren't quite so big (perhaps he'd been given just a spot too much parathyroid at Metre 328?). They were dear boys, she thought, as she returned their salutations.
She was a popular girl and, at one time or another, had spent a night with almost all of them.
The lift was crowded with men from the Alpha Changing Rooms, and Lenina's entry was greeted by many friendly nods and smiles.
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