"It was a difficult part to play, George," responded his friend. "We
ought to have rehearsed it a bit. I did the best I could."

"Best you could?" stormed Mr. Burton. "Telling lies and ordering me
about?"

"I had to play the part without any preparation, George," said the other,
firmly. "You got yourself into the difficulty by saying that I was the
admiral in the first place. I'll do better next time we go."

Mr. Burton, with a nasty scowl, said that there was not going to be any
next time, but Mr. Stiles smiled as one having superior information.
Deaf first to hints and then to requests to seek his pleasure elsewhere,
he stayed on, and Mr. Burton was soon brought to realise the difficulties
which beset the path of the untruthful.

The very next visit introduced a fresh complication, it being evident to
the most indifferent spectator that Mr. Stiles and the widow were getting
on very friendly terms. Glances of unmistakable tenderness passed
between them, and on the occasion of the third visit Mr. Burton sat an
amazed and scandalised spectator of a flirtation of the most pronounced
description. A despairing attempt on his part to lead the conversation
into safer and, to his mind, more becoming channels only increased his
discomfiture. Neither of them took any notice of it, and a minute later
Mr. Stiles called the widow a "saucy little baggage," and said that she
reminded him of the Duchess of Marford.

[Illustration: "'Mr. Stiles called the widow a 'saucy little baggage.'"]