He had an execrable eye — full of insolence and sensuality.

The principal figures before her mind’s eye were — Tittlebat Titmouse, Esquire, and The Rev. Dismal Horror. The latter was about twenty-six (he had been “called to the work of the ministry” in his sixteenth year); short; his face slightly pitted with small-pox; his forehead narrow; his eyes cold and watery; no eyebrows or whiskers; high cheek-bones; his short dark hair combed primly forward over each temple, and twisted into a sort of topknot in front; he wore no shirt-collar, but had a white neck-handkerchief tied very formally, and was dressed in an ill-made suit of black. He spoke in a drawling, canting tone; and his countenance was overspread with a demure expression of — Cunning, trying to look religious.