His mouth was the kind that is called frank, and he had steady gray eyes that moved slowly from one to the other of their group, with just the shade of a questioning expression.

Amory noticed his hands; they weren't fine at all, but they had versatility and a tenuous strength...

they were nervous hands that sat lightly along the cushions and moved constantly with little jerky openings and closings.

Then, suddenly, Amory perceived the feet, and with a rush of blood to the head he realized he was afraid.

The feet were all wrong ...
with a sort of wrongness that he felt rather than knew....