stinated
finish. My own belief in it had to endure two tests, of which the less
was inflicted by a scene specifically placed in a "dim _second class_
carriage" on the L.&N.W.R. in 1916; and the greater by the _cri
de coeur_ of the lady, whose husband surprised her with her lover:
"Edmund, get that murderous look out of your eyes, the look of that
dreadful ancestor in the portrait gallery!" I ask you, does that carry
conviction under the circumstances?

* * * * *

Really, the delight of the publishers over _Cecily and the Wide World_
(HURST AND BLACKETT) is almost touching. On the outside of the wrapper
they call it "charming," and are at the further pains to advise me
to "read first the turnover of cover," where I find them letting
themselves go in such terms as "true life," "sincerity," "charm"
(again), "courage," and the like. The natural result of all which was
that I approached the story prepared for the stickiest of American
cloy-fiction. I was most pleasantly disappointed. Miss ELIZABETH F.
CORBETT has chosen a theme inevitably a little sentimental, but her
treatment of it is throughout of a brisk and tonic sanity, altogether
different from--well, you know the sort of stuff I have in mind.
_Cecily_ was the discontented wife of _Avery Fairchild_, a young
doctor with three children and a fair practice. After a while her
discontent so increased that she betook herself to the wide, wide
world, to live her own life. And as both she and _Avery_ before long
fell cheerfully in love with other persons I suppose the move could
so far be counted a success. Before, however, the divorce facilities
of the land of freedom could bring the tale to one happy ending an
accident to _Cecily's_ motor and the long arm that delivered her
to her husband's professional care brought it to another. I am left
wondering how this denouement would have been affected if _Avery_
had been, say, a dentist, or of any other calling than the one that
so obviously loaded the dice in his favour. I repeat, however, a
distinctly well-written and human story, almost startlingly topical
too in one place, where _Dr. Avery_ observes, "There's a lot of
grippe in town, and it's a thing that isn't reported to the Health
Department." The obvious inference being that it ought to be. _Avery_,
you observe, had more practical sense than the majority of heroes, few
of whom would ever have thought of this, or, at any rate, mentioned
it.