kable qualities that place him beyond question amongst
the first half-dozen of the younger English novelists; but never before,
I think, have his talents had a subject so exactly suited to their best
display. It would be difficult to praise too highly the grim and
relentless effect of the author's treatment of his subject. _Robin
Gregg_ is a drunkard, and everyone about him--his secretary, his
sister-in-law, his little girl--is caught into the dingy cloud of his
vice. The house also is caught; and very fine indeed is the way in which
Mr. Beresford has presented his atmosphere--the rooms, the dirty strip
of garden, the shabby suburb, the London rain--but beyond all these
things is the central figure of _Gregg_ himself. Here is a character
entirely new to English fiction--a man who in spite of his degradation
has his brilliance, his humour and, above all, his mystery. It is in
this implication that, at the very heart of the man, there are fine
things too degraded and degraded things too fine for any human record of
them to be possible that the exceptional merit of Mr. Beresford's work
lies. In his desire to avoid any possible cheapness or weak indulgence
he misses, perhaps, some effects of colour and pathos that might, a
little, have heightened the contrasts of his study; and I do not feel
that the woman is as vivid as she should be. These things, however,
affect very slightly a story that its author may indeed be proud to have
written.

_Penelope_ was the heroine. She was in what are called reduced
circumstances, and was moreover encumbered by sisters who were not quite
all that could have been wished in the way of niceness. One day
_Penelope_, looking through an iron gate, saw a beautiful garden, full
of flowers; and the master of the garden, himself unseen, saw
_Penelope_, and loved her. So she accepted the invitation of his voice
and went into the garden and found that the master was a young man so
disfigured by a recent accident that he had to wear blue spectacles and
a shade. However, he loved her and she didn't mind him, so that after a
time they became engaged, which was pleasant enough for _Penelope_, who
had henceforth the run of the garden and leave to take home roses and
things to the not-nice sisters. Do you want to be told how presently
these began to tempt _Penelope_, urging her to insist that her lover
should unmask, and what happened when she yielded? Or have you seen
already that the story here called