His wristbands and collar were oppressive; his voice and manner were oppressive.

He had a large watch-chain and bunch of seals, a coat buttoned up to inconvenience, a waistcoat buttoned up to inconvenience, an unwrinkled pair of trousers, a stiff pair of boots.

He was altogether splendid, massive, overpowering, and impracticable.

He seemed to have been sitting for his portrait to Sir Thomas Lawrence all the days of his life.
'Mr Clennam ?' said Mr Barnacle.

'Be seated.' Mr Clennam became seated.
'You have called on me, I believe,' said Mr Barnacle, 'at the Circumlocution--' giving it the air of a word of about five-and-twenty syllables--'Office.' 'I have taken that liberty.' Mr Barnacle solemnly bent his head as who should say, 'I do not deny that it is a liberty; proceed to take another liberty, and let me know your business.' 'Allow me to observe that I have been for some years in China, am quite a stranger at home, and have no personal motive or interest in the inquiry I am about to make.' Mr Barnacle tapped his fingers on the table, and, as if he were now sitting for his portrait to a new and strange artist, appeared to say to his visitor, 'If you will be good enough to take me with my present lofty expression, I shall feel obliged.' 'I have found a debtor in the Marshalsea Prison of the name of Dorrit, who has been there many years.