He was of about the middle-size, clean-shaven, of grave and kindly face, and resembled such a man as a lawyer or physician might be.

He was dressed in all points like a layman, though I suppose it was tolerably well known what he was, if not his name.
He saluted as he came near, and made as if he would have passed us.
"Mr.Whitbread! Mr.Whitbread!" cried the Duke.
The priest turned and bowed again, uncovering as he did so.

Then he came up to the Duke and kissed his hand.
"I was on my way to see your Royal Highness," he said, "but when I saw you were in company--" "Why, this is Mr.Mallock, come from Rome, who has letters to you.

This will save you a journey, Mallock." The priest and I saluted one another; and I found his face and manner very pleasant.
"I have heard of you, Mr.Mallock," he said, "but I hope His Highness is misinformed, and that this will not save you a journey, after all." "I was just telling this gentleman," broke in the Duke, as we continued our walking, "that he must take you for his mentor, Dr.Whitbread, in these difficult times.

Mr.Mallock seems very young for his business, but I suppose that the Holy Father knows what he is about." "The Holy Father, sir," I said, "has committed himself in no sort of way to me.