“He had no belly at all.He was a dried-up little man with the rubbed features and stooped shoulders of a postal clerk.The shiny mohair coat and nondescript trousers of that official would have become him, but he was dressed, as always, elaborately.In the buttonhole of his brown jacket was a lemon flower.His trousers were of a reddish Harris tweed with a hound tooth check and on his feet were a pair of magnificent rust-colored bluchers.His shirt was ivory flannel and his knitted tie a red that was almost black.”