"I think that I am right," he said, and his eyes were twinkling. "Three lumps and no cream."
"Yes, that's right," said Sutton, astonished that he should remember.
But remembering, he told himself, was easy. I seem to be able to remember almost everything. As if the old sets of habit patterns had been kept bright and polished in my mind through all the alien years, waiting, like a set of cherished silver standing on a shelf, until its was time for them to be used again.
"I remember little things," said Dr. Raven. "Little, inconsequential things, like how many lumps of sugar and what a man said sixty years ago, but I don't do so well, sometimes, at the big things…the things you would expect a man to remember."
The white marble fireplace flared to the vaulted ceiling and the university's coat of arms upon its polished face was as bright as the last day Sutton had seen it.
"I suppose," he said, "you wonder why I came."
"Not at all," said Dr. Raven. "All my boys come back to see me. And I am glad to see them. It makes me feel so proud."
"I've been wondering myself," said Sutton. "And I guess I know what it is, but it is hard to say."
"Let's take it easy then," said Dr. Raven. "Remember, the way we used to. We sat and talked around a thing and finally, before we knew it, we had found the core."
Sutton laughed shortly.