He looks very odd, Clive thinks, very odd and very kind, and he looks like a gentleman, every inch of him:--not like Martin's father, who came to see his son lately in high-lows, and a shocking bad hat, and actually flung coppers amongst the boys for a scramble.

He bursts out a-laughing at the exquisitely ludicrous idea of a gentleman of his fashion scrambling for coppers.
And now, enjoining the boy to be ready against his return (and you may be sure Mr.Clive was on the look-out long before his sire appeared), the Colonel whirled away in his cab to the City to shake hands with his brothers, whom he had not seen since they were demure little men in blue jackets, under charge of a serious tutor.
He rushed through the clerks and the banking-house, he broke into the parlour where the lords of the establishment were seated.

He astonished those trim quiet gentlemen by the warmth of his greeting, by the vigour of his hand-shake, and the loud high tones of his voice, which penetrated the glass walls of the parlour, and might actually be heard by the busy clerks in the hall without.

He knew Brian from Hobson at once--that unlucky little accident in the go-cart having left its mark for ever on the nose of Sir Brian Newcome, the elder of the twins.

Sir Brian had a bald head and light hair, a short whisker cut to his cheek, a buff waistcoat, very neat boots and hands.