Luke was dabbing the pointer carefully at the bald top of Weaver's head.
His horny, complicated face was unpleasantly close, the mandibles
unpleasantly big even behind his mouth veil.
Luke said, "We will, very gladly ... except that perhaps the new ones
will not like it."
Weaver felt bewildered. In one corner of His mind He felt a tiny
darkness unfolding: the kernel of doubt, forgotten so long, but there
all the time. Growing larger now, expanding to a ragged, terrifying
shape.