He is pale, thin, ugly, silent; he has thin legs, no chest, hay-coloured whiskers, and straw-coloured hair.

He is the very picture of his sainted mother over the mantelpiece--Griselda of the noble house of Binkie.
"This is the new governess, Mr.Crawley," said Lady Crawley, coming forward and taking my hand.

"Miss Sharp." "O!" said Mr.Crawley, and pushed his head once forward and began again to read a great pamphlet with which he was busy.
"I hope you will be kind to my girls," said Lady Crawley, with her pink eyes always full of tears.
"Law, Ma, of course she will," said the eldest: and I saw at a glance that I need not be afraid of THAT woman.

"My lady is served," says the butler in black, in an immense white shirt-frill, that looked as if it had been one of the Queen Elizabeth's ruffs depicted in the hall; and so, taking Mr.Crawley's arm, she led the way to the dining-room, whither I followed with my little pupils in each hand.
Sir Pitt was already in the room with a silver jug.

He had just been to the cellar, and was in full dress too; that is, he had taken his gaiters off, and showed his little dumpy legs in black worsted stockings.