Comparisons in criticism are dangerous, but Miss STERN'S philosophy
strongly calls to mind BUTLER'S _The Way of All Flesh_. At least there
is the same mordant and rather hopeless analysis of the power for evil
in a too complicated world of impeccable people with no sense of humour.
And in _Dermod's_ case the effect is heightened by the feeling that if
he had really been the irresponsible creature he was suspected of being
he would have come much nearer to controlling his own destinies. He
sowed a decent regard for his obligations, and reaped a perfect
whirlwind of well-to-do respectability. _Grand Chain_ is a really
remarkable novel, and no discriminating reader will overlook it.

* * * * *

Was it not Mr. ALBERT CHEVALIER who used to sing some hortatory lyrics
upon the inadvisability of introducing your donah to a pal? Something of
this sort, _mutatis mutandis_ in the matter of sex, might stand as the
moral of _That Red-headed Girl_(JENKINS). Because no sooner had _Julia_,
the heroine, got herself engaged to _Dick_ than the arrival of
auburn-tressed _Sheila_ so dazzled the youth that in less time than it
takes to write he had called the engagement off and prepared to marry
the new-comer. However, to square matters, _Sheila_ now jilted him;
whereupon he fled back to _Julia_ (meanwhile, though he knew it not,
legatee of twelve thousand a year) and promptly married her. Which was
entirely satisfactory, save from the view-point of Miss LOUISE HEILGERS,
who was left with her hero and heroine united and the whole affair at an
end before she had passed Chapter XII. Here however intervened a very
touching instance of filial piety. Springing to the rescue of her
author, and with no other possible motive or excuse than that of helping
Miss HEILGERS towards a publishable six-bobs-worth, the resourceful
_Julia_ determined to think that _Dick_ had married her for the money of
whose existence he was palpably unaware. He, on his part, not to be
outdone, played up to the situation thus created with a lunatic
behaviour that gave it the support it wanted. I need not, of course,
insult your intelligence with any indication of the end. A happy,
flagrantly artificial little comedy of manners, as exhibited by the
characters in polite pre-war fiction, and nowhere else.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Resigned Patriot_. "DO WE DRAW FOR THIS, MY DEAR?"]

* * *