s of
resemblance. I do not think that over-states it.

They have the same little ways. They divide their chapters into
sections, and number the sections in plain figures. This is quite
pontifical, and lends your story the majesty of an Act of Parliament.
The first man who did it was a genius. And the other seven hundred and
eighteen showed judgment. I propose to use it myself when I remember
it.

Then there is the three-dot trick. At one time those dots indicated an
omission. To-day, some of our best use them as an equivalent of the
cinema fade-out. Those dots prolong the effect of a word or sentence;
they lend it an afterglow. You see what I mean? Afterglow ...

One must mention, too, the staccato style--the style that makes the
printer send the boy out for another hundred gross of full-stops. All
the Great Novelists of to-day use it, more or less.

III

Let us see what can be done with it. Here, for instance, is a sentence
which was taught me in the nursery, for its alleged tongue-twisting
quality: "She stood at the door of Burgess's fish-sauce shop, Strand,
welcoming him in." In that form it is not impressive, but now note
what one of these staccato merchants might make of it.

"Across the roaring Strand red and green lights spelling on the gloom.
'BURGESS'S FISH-SAU.' A moment's darkness and again 'BURGESS'S
FISH-SAU.' Like that. Truncated. The final --CE not functioning. He
had to look though it hurt him. Hurt horrible. Damnably. And his eyes
traveled downward.

"Suddenly and beyond hope she! Isobel-at-the-last. Standing in the
doorway. White on black. Slim. Willowy. Incomparable. Incommensurable.
She saw him and her lips rounded to a call. He sensed it through the
traffic. Come in. Calling and calling. Come in.

"Come in....

"Out of the rain."

It is like a plaintive hymn sung to a banjo accompaniment.

Incidentally it illustrates another favorite trick of these
gentlemen--the introduction of a commonplace or even jarring detail
into a romantic scene in order to increase its appearance of reality.
It is quite a good trick.

IV

And sometimes, not every day but sometimes, one gets a little weary
even of the best tricks. Need the author depend quite so much on the
printer for his effects? Scenes and passages in a book seem to be
standing very near the edge, and the wanton thought occurs to one that
a little shove would send them over. In fact, one gets irritable. And
then anything bad may hap