Perhaps he takes care to see that the ends of his necktie are properly
adjusted.
Or he smoothes down the ruffles or front of his shirt or
evening-dress.
Or he tries to find out by a questioning and furtive glance whether
his wig, blonde or brown, curled or plain, is in its natural position.
Perhaps he looks at his nails to see whether they are clean and duly
cut.
Perhaps with a hand which is either white or untidy, well-gloved or
otherwise, he twirls his moustache, or his whiskers, or picks his
teeth with a little tortoise-shell toothpick.
Or by slow and repeated movements he tries to place his chin exactly
over the centre of his necktie.
Or perhaps he crosses one foot over the other, putting his hands in
his pockets.
Or perhaps he gives a twist to his shoe, and looks at it as if he
thought, "Now, there's a foot that is not badly formed."
Or according as he has come on foot or in a carriage, he rubs off or
he does not rub off the slight patches of mud which soil his shoes.
Or perhaps he remains as motionless as a Dutchman smoking his pipe.
Or perhaps he fixes his eyes on the door and looks like a soul escaped
from Purgatory and waiting for Saint Peter with the keys.
Perhaps he hesitates to pull the bell; perhaps he seizes it
negligently, precipitately, familiarly, or like a man who is quite
sure of himself.
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