Emile Poleski called it _l'entresol de l'enfer_, and certainly he was
not there by his own choice. It was the centre of intrigue, and to
intrigue his life, intellect, and the little money he had left from his
Polish estates, were devoted. To him life meant "The Cause," and that
exigeant mistress left little room for other and more natural
affections.
In his career women did not count, at least they did not count as
women. If they had money to spend, or brains and energies that could
be utilised, that was a different matter. He had a trick of studying
people as one studies natural history through a microscope.
It was all very interesting, but when one had done with the specimens
one threw them away and looked about for fresh material.
The train came in, slackened speed and stopped, and its contents
resolved themselves into little groups of people all hunting with more
or less excitement for their luggage, and porters to convey the same to
cabs.
The figure of a girl who had just alighted and was standing alone,
caught and held his roving eyes.
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