“Well, I must go.” I kissed O- , shook hands with R- and went to the elevator.

As I crossed the avenue I turned around. Here and there in the huge mass of glass penetrated by sunshine there were grayish-blue squares, the opaque squares of lowered curtains⁠—the squares of rhythmic, Taylorized happiness. On the seventh floor I found R-13 ’s square. The curtains were already lowered.