Clippings

He put the cigar on the edge of the table beside him with a grimace of distaste and picked at his moustache with nervous fingers. He put the messages away once more and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling and biting a fingernail. He ran fingers through his hair. He put the end of a finger between his collar and his neck. He sat up and took the envelopes out of his pocket again, but put them back without having looked at them. He chewed his lower lip. Finally he shook himself impatiently and began to read the rest of his mail. He was reading it when the telephone-bell rang.