"You don't feel anything?"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's a friend, a brother, a comfortable dog."
The stiffness went out of Hastings. He sank back breathing hard, as if he had been running too fast. "Mary, you don't know how good that hears. You just don't know!"
"Oh my darling!" She held his head in her arms, her mouth close to his ear. "Has it been this, all these months?"
The man nodded, laughing a little. "I just couldn't take the thought that maybe—"
"Hush, hush! Don't even say it any more. Drink the wine and remember what I said ... 'To its warm glow, like our home together.'"
His hand reached out, and trembling slightly, the fingers grasped, and fumbled, and clutched at air. The glass shattered prettily, spilling its golden life on the unalterable stone throat of the hearth.
And they stood there, hands untouching. Watching the glistening fragments trap the last warm glow of the fire.
"Enough, enough," a voice said. "You will rechannel your thoughts, Captain Hastings. There is another day in time."