le as he opened the front page, and began to read.
Strange, how poignantly real the story was in this form, more real even
than when he had written it, or read it over in manuscript that first
day in New York many weeks ago now. He went on and on, and could not
stop. There was no servant in the Mirador to look after his wants, and
so he had no food till evening; none until he had finished the book,
and had walked for a long time in the garden, thinking it all over with
passionate revival of interest. After that night the book again shared
his dreams with Barbara. Sometimes in dreaming, he saw Barbara reading
the story; but when he waked, he said to himself there were ten chances
against one that she would ever hear of it.

When "The War Wedding" in volume form was about a fortnight or three
weeks old, a thick envelope full of American press cuttings arrived for
"Mr. John Sanbourne," from Eversedge Sibley and Company. Every critic,
even those of the most important newspapers; praised the work of the
unknown author with enthusiasm. A notice signed by a famous name said,
"In reading this story, told with a limpid simplicity almost unique in
the annals of story-writing, one forgets the printed page and feels
that one is listening to a voice: not an ordinary voice, but the voice
of a disembodied soul which has forgotten nothing of this existence and
has already learned much about the next: a philosopher of crystal
clearness and inspiring serenity."

Nearly all the criticisms had something in them of the same curious
exaltation of mood. The writers asked: "Who is John Sanbourne, that he
can work this spell upon us?" And one said, "Whoever he is, he is bound
to get post-bags full of 'appreciations' from half the women in the
world, and a good many men."

A letter from Sibley was enclosed with the cuttings, congratulating the
author. "This is only the first batch," he wrote, "but it's a
phenomenally big one for this short time. Evidently these hardened
critics shared my weakness. When they began the book they couldn't put
it down till the end, and then they had to relieve their pent-up
feelings by dashing them onto paper at white heat. Many of these
reviews, as you'll see by the date, appeared on the day after
publication, most of the others on that following. Such opinions by
such critics in such papers have sold the book like hot cakes. Luckily
we expected a huge demand, or we should already be unable to supply it.
Thanks