her theme was the intrigue between a man and his step-mother. In
_Sisters_ (MURRAY) it is the passion of a man for his living wife's married
sister, and in neither case does the author seem to be conscious of
anything out of the ordinary. Not that there is any air of naughtiness
about the business. _Peter_, a rich cripple, loved _Cherry_, the youngest
and prettiest of the three _Strickland_ girls. But _Martin_, a casual
impecunious stranger, stepped in and took her in one bite before _Peter_
could quite realise she was no longer a child. So in default he married
_Alix_, who was, incidentally, worth six of her. Meeting his _Cherry_,
disillusioned about an unsatisfactory and unsuccessful _Martin_, he reaches
out his hand for this forbidden fruit. Whereupon _Alix_, the selfless,
drives herself and _Martin_ over a cliff by way of making things smooth for
_Peter_ and _Cherry_, which was inconsiderate, if resourceful; for, while
_Alix_ is happily killed, poor _Martin_ only breaks his back, so that all
may end with the balance on the credit side of the Recording Angel's ledger
with _Cherry_ nursing her hopeless invalid. An unlikely story, pleasantly
and competently told.

* * * * *

My appreciation of _The Ancient Allan_ (CASSELL) may be measured by my keen
disappointment on finding that the concluding pages of the book were absent
in the copy vouchsafed to me, and that (apparently) in their place a double
dose of pages 279-294 was offered. Nevertheless I can safely assert that
you will find this a yarn worth reading, for here Sir RIDER HAGGARD is in
as good form as ever he was, when both he and _Allan Quatermain_ were
younger. _Lady Ragnall_, who is an old friend to readers of _The Ivory
Child_, reappears here, having in her possession a mysterious and potent
herb, which she persuades _Allan_ to inhale. Then the fun takes on a great
liveliness. _Allan_ is wafted back to the days when Egypt was under the
domination of the Persians, and he in his ancient existence performed some
of the very doughtiest of deeds. No one living can tell such a tale with a
greater dexterity and zest than Sir RIDER. And at that I will leave it,
with one more regret that I was not allowed to be present when _Allan_
recovered from the effects of Taduki (the herb that did it).

* * * * *

I find that when the medicine of thought is wrapped up in the jam of
fiction I generally take both mor