I open the door and listlessly enter.

If I had thought that there was any chance of his being within, I should not have done so without knocking; indeed, I hardly think I should have done it at all, but this seems to me most unlikely.

Nevertheless, he is.
As I enter, I catch sudden sight of him.

He is sitting in his arm-chair, his elbows leaned on the table before him, his hand passed through his ruffled hair, and his gray eyes straying abstractedly away from the neglected page before him.

I see him before he sees me.