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;