"No," he said, "they don't seem to have a very high opinion of our low position on the social evolution scale."
He began to eat in the manner of one who knows the body needs nourishment to take advantage of any opportunity for escape, even though the mind may be darkly certain that no such opportunity shall arise.
"You ought to eat a little, Ginny," he said.
She tried, and gave up after a few bites.
"I guess I'm just not hungry—not now," she said. She glanced at the darkened window where The Cat had become invisible. "How long until daylight again, Bob?"
He looked at his watch. "Seven hours."
"Seven hours?" A touch of wistfulness came into her voice. "I never noticed, before, how short the nights are."
The robot laid the material Tal-Karanth had requested on his desk, the records and tapes from the Terran ship, and withdrew. Tal-Karanth sighed wearily as he inserted the first tape in the projector, wondering again why he felt the vague dissatisfaction and wondering why he hoped to find an answer among the material from the Terran ship. It would be an all night task—and he could hardly expect to find more than he already knew. Tharnar was not safe and secure from discovery by Terrans in the years to come and faith in the robot fleet had been an illusion.
Before setting the projector in operation he put through a call to his daughter.