He's not there for nothing though.

_Some_ one makes him welcome, depend on't,' and he winked to himself.

'A plaguy high stomach, too, by Jove.

I bet you fifty, if he stays here three months, he'll be at swords or pistols with some of our hot bloods.

And whatever his secret is--and I dare say 'tisn't worth knowing--the people here will ferret it out at last, I warrant you.
There's small good in making all the fuss he does about it; if he knew but all, there's no such thing as a secret here--hang the one have _I_, I know, just because there's no use in trying.