But as Coralie’s diffidence vanished before the influence of the champagne, and the polished compliments which Norman from time to time addressed to her not unwilling ears, she laughed and displayed her white teeth and uttered piquant nothings in the prettiest broken English imaginable, till she appeared altogether so fascinating, that Biggington began to perceive he had made a mistake, which the wine he drank rendered him determined at all hazards to remedy. Norman, who watched him closely, remarking this, redoubled his attentions to Coralie, and Biggington’s dissatisfaction and ill-temper became so unmistakable that they were observed even by Mrs. Fitz-Siddons, whose troublesome nerves were again beginning to inconvenience her, as was evinced by a slight disposition towards the unromantic spasmodic affection popularly termed winking, with which she punctuated (so to speak) her sentences. Feeling desirous that so agreeable an evening should end as harmoniously as it had begun, she tossed off a final bumper of claret (Mrs. Fitz-S. was great at claret), and, turning to the young ladies, began-- “Cora-lee, my love--O-phaliur, my darling, all that’s bright my dears, must (_wink_)--the fondest hearts must part; ‘parting is such sweet sorrow,’ you remember! Not another drop, I’m obleeged to ye, Mr. Biggington, sir--well, if you will have it so I suppose I must (_wink_); we weaker vessels you know--” “Hold as much as the strong ones,” interposed Jack, “and carry it off a precious sight better too, and no mistake,” he added _sotto voce_ to his punning friend, glancing towards Biggington as he spoke. In the meantime, the young ladies having risen, were looking for their bonnets and mantles. Terry, whose strong point was activity, had discovered Miss Ophelia’s shawl, and, with many grimaces as of a polite monkey, had placed it over her shoulders; and Norman was about to perform the same friendly office by Coralie, when Biggington sprang to his feet, and advancing with a slight unsteadiness in his gait, exclaimed in a hoarse, angry voice-- “Give me that shawl directly, Norman; I intend to escort Miss Coralie home.” “Excuse me,” was the quiet reply; “having found the shawl, I shall not yield the privilege of placing it over the fair owner’s shoulders, to you or any one.” “Won’t you?” returned Biggington, with an oath; “we’ll soon see that!” and as he spoke he grasped the shawl with one hand, while he attempted to push Norman aside with the other. Drawing back to avoid his grasp, Norman whispered to Terry, “Watch and see who strikes the first blow, and then lock the door and put the key in your pocket.”