"We'd better hurry," Kirk said desperately. "Annette's waiting. And Dickie, of course."
Loren blinked.
"You wouldn't want to keep them waiting any longer, not after all this time, Harry."
Loren stroked his fingers slowly down the long neck of the animal.
"I think," Kirk said, almost hoarsely, "now that I really remember it, Annette was still wearing her hair braided. I remember that now, Harry. Positively."
Loren froze the motion of his hand and stared at Kirk. His lips trembled, and then suddenly he put his hands in front of his face. He bent forward, and Kirk felt his nerves jumping, watching the man start to cry.
The animal turned its stare away from Kirk for the first time. It looked at Loren and then slowly raised a claw, touching Loren's shoulder carefully. It made a sound then, a peculiar hissing sound, soft, barely audible. There was no danger in it, or menace, only a pitiful sound.
Loren raised his head a little and brought his hands away from his face. Tears had cut through dust and grime and his face was streaked.
"Shall we go, Harry?" Kirk said.
Loren wiped at his eyes, stupidly, without knowing what he was doing. Then he brought his hands down and wiped them across his chest.