...of serving wine

Turandot served him in meditative silence. Charles knocked back his beaujolais, wiped his moustache with the back of his hand, and then looked absent-mindedly in the direction of the outside world. To do this you had to raise your head, and then you only saw feet, ankles, trouser turn-ups, and sometimes, if you were very lucky, a whole dog, a dachshund. A cage hanging near the fanlight harboured a sad parrot. Turandot refilled Charles' glass and pored himself a nip. Mado Ptits-pieds came and installed herself behind the counter beside the boss and broke the silence.

[Zazie In The Metro, Queneau, R.]