As for de Mersch, standing between those two, he seemed like a country
lout between confederate sharpers. It struck me that she let me see,
made me see, that she and Gurnard had an understanding, made manifest to
me by glances that passed when the Duc had his unobservant eyes turned
elsewhere.

I saw Churchill, in turn, move desultorily toward them, drawn in, like a
straw toward a little whirlpool. I turned my back in a fury of jealousy.




CHAPTER NINE


I had a pretty bad night after that, and was not much in the mood for
Fox on the morrow. The sight of her had dwarfed everything; the thought
of her disgusted me with everything, made me out of conceit with the
world--with that part of the world that had become my world. I wanted to
get up into hers--and I could not see any way. The room in which Fox sat
seemed to be hopelessly off the road--to be hopelessly off any road to
any place; to be the end of a blind alley. One day I might hope to
occupy such a room--in my shirt-sleeves, like Fox. But that was not the
end of my career--not the end that I desired. She had upset me.

"You've just missed Polehampton," Fox said; "wanted to get hold of your
'Atmospheres.'"

"Oh, damn Polehampton," I said, "and particularly damn the