the name for it when he was on the _Destruction_ with me; 'Bungling
Burton' they called him."

He divided the rest of the evening between flirting and recounting
various anecdotes of Mr. Burton, none of which were at all flattering
either to his intelligence or to his sobriety, and the victim, after one
or two futile attempts at contradiction, sat in helpless wrath as he saw
the infatuation of the widow. They were barely clear of the house before
his pent-up emotions fell in an avalanche of words on the faithless Mr.
Stiles.

"I can't help being good-looking," said the latter, with a smirk.

"Your good looks wouldn't hurt anybody," said Mr. Burton, in a grating
voice; "it's the admiral business that fetches her. It's turned 'er
head."

Mr. Stiles smiled. "She'll say 'snap' to my 'snip' any time," he
remarked. "And remember, George, there'll always be a knife and fork
laid for you when you like to come."

"I dessay," retorted Mr. Burton, with a dreadful sneer. "Only as it
happens I'm going to tell 'er the truth about you first thing to-morrow
morning. If I can't have 'er you sha'n't."

"That'll spoil your chance, too," said Mr. Stiles. "She'd never forgive
you for fooling her like that. It seems a pity neither of us should get
her."

"You're a sarpent," exclaimed Mr. Burton, savagely--"a sarpent that I've