Her wrinkles shone, that is, her wrinkles diverged like rays, which created the impression of shining. "Yes, grandmother," answered I-330. The wrinkles continued to shine. "And the sun, eh,--do you see it, you rogue, you! I know, I know. It's all right. Go all by yourselves,--I shall remain here in the sunshine." Hmm.... Apparently my companion was a frequent guest here. Something disturbed me; probably that unpleasant optical impression,--the cloud on the smooth blue surface of the sky. While we were ascending the wide, dark stairs, I-330 said, "I love her, that old woman." "Why?" "I don't know. Perhaps for her mouth,--or perhaps for nothing, just so." I shrugged my shoulders. She continued walking upstairs with a faint smile or perhaps without a smile at all. I felt very guilty. It is clear that there must not be "love, just so," but "love because of." For all elements of nature should be.... "It's clear ..." I began, but I stopped at that word and cast a furtive look at I-330. Did she notice it or not? She looked somewhere, down; her eyes were closed like curtains. It struck me suddenly: evening about twenty-two; you walk on the avenue and among the brightly lighted, transparent, cubic cells, are dark spaces, lowered curtains, and there behind the curtains.... What has she behind her curtains? Why did she phone me today? Why did she bring me here? and all this.... She opened a heavy, squeaking, opaque door and we found ourselves in a sombre disorderly space (they called it an "apartment"). The same strange "royal" musical instrument and a wild, unorganized, crazy loudness of colors and forms like their ancient music. A white plane above, dark blue walls, red, green, orange bindings of ancient books, yellow bronze candelabras, a statue of Buddha, furniture with lines distorted by epilepsy, impossible to reduce to any clear equation. I could hardly bear that chaos. But my companion apparently possessed a stronger constitution. "This is my most beloved--" she suddenly caught herself (again a smile,--bite, and white sharp teeth), "to be more exact, the most nonsensical of all 'apartments'." "Or to be most exact, of all the States. Thousands of microscopic States, fighting eternal wars, pitiless like--" "Oh yes, it's clear," said I-330 with apparent sincerity. We passed through a room where we found a few small children's beds (children in those days were also private property). Then more rooms, glimmering mirrors, sombre closets, unbearably loud-colored divans, an enormous "fireplace," a large mahogany bed. Our contemporary beautiful, transparent, eternal glass was represented here only by pitiful, delicate, tiny squares of windows. "And to think; here there was love 'just so'; they burned and tortured themselves" (again the curtain of the eyes was lowered), "What a stupid, uneconomical spending of human energy. Am I not right?"