passionately appreciative;
here and there the effect of criticism was obviously
marred by the desire of the writer to let no point of
beauty or of value escape divination. Quotations from
the book were culled like flowers, with a delicate hand;
and there was conspicuous care in the avoidance of any
phrase that was hackneyed, any line of criticism that
custom had impoverished. It seemed that the writer
fashioned a tribute, and strove to make it perfect in
every way. And so perfect it was, so cunningly devised
and gracefully expressed, with such a self-conscious
beauty of word and thought, that its extravagance went
unsuspected, and the interest it provoked was its own.

Janet read the review in glow of remorseful affection.
She was appealed to less by the exquisite manipulation
with which the phrases strove to say the most and the
best, than by the loyal haste to praise she saw behind,
them, and she forgave their lack of blame in the happy
belief that Elfrida had not the heart for it. She was
not in the least angry that her friend should have done
her the injustice of what would have been, less adroitly
managed, indiscriminate praise; in fact, she hardly
thought of the value of the critique at all, so absorbed
was she in the sweet sense of the impulse that made
Elfrida write it. To Janet's quick forgiveness it made
up for everything; indeed, she found in it a scourge for
her anger, for her resentment. Elfrida might do what she
pleased, Janet would never cavil again; she was sure now
of some real possession in her friend. But she longed to
see Elfrida, to assure herself of the warm verity of
this. Besides, she wanted to feel her work in her friend's
presence, to extract the censure that was due, to take
the essence of praise from her eyes and voice and hand.
But she would wait. She had still no right to know that
Elfrida had returned, and an odd sensitiveness prevented
her from driving instantly to Essex Court to ask.

The next day passed, and the next. Lawrence Cardiff found
no reason to share his daughter's scruples, and went
twice, to meet Mrs. Jordan on the threshold with the
implacable statement that Miss Bell had returned but was
not at home. He found it impossible to mention Elfrida
to Janet now.

John Kendal had gone back to Devonshire to look after
the thinning of a bit of his woodlands--one thing after
another claimed his attention there. Janet had a gay
note from him now and then, always _en camarad