Halfway through, James's hand had crept to my arm and rested there; when Herbert finished I heard the little man licking his lips, again and again slapping his tongue against them.

Then I looked at Sapt.

He was as pale as a ghost, and the lines on his face seemed to have grown deeper.
He glanced up, and met my regard.

Neither of us spoke; we exchanged thoughts with our eyes.

"This is our work," we said to one another.