I should have been better pleased if he had not been of our party.
He never was select, even in my young days, when I met him once or twice.

There used to be a saying among us that Fastnet, if he gave his mind to it--" "Fastnet!" The cab was dark, and the boy's pale face was invisible to his guardian.
But the tone with which he caught at the name struck that good gentleman.
"Yes.

What about it ?" "Only," said Roger, after half a minute, and he spoke with an unusual effort, "it seems a good name for him." Alone in his room that night Roger came to himself.

A week or two ago he had hugged himself into the notion he was resolved to do his duty at all costs and in spite of all discouragement.

Here had he been wasting a fortnight, forgetting duty, forgetting that he had a mission, posing as the heir, and accepting the compliments of a lot of time-servers who, now that he thought about them, valued him for nothing but his name and expectations.
And one of these--the least desirable of the lot--had been this Fastnet, the companion in profligacy of his lost brother, the one man, perhaps, from whom he might hope to obtain a clue as to the fate or whereabouts of the man whose rights he, Roger, was usurping! He was tempted to telegraph to Armstrong to come to his help.