eless
between the covers, with hardly a decent rag of incident or story to
cover it. And there one might perhaps be content to let it rest, but
for the fact that _Anita_, the lady of the "Attraction," is worthy of
a better fate. The principal man of the book, who, after much wobbling
consideration, and in spite of his quite fortuitous marriage with some
one else in the meantime, discovers at last that he does love _Anita_,
is the merest peg on which to hang endless philosophisings; and so
is his impossible wife _Janet_ herself, the lady who, after having
accepted his dubious courtship for no particular reason, fortunately
deserts him without any better excuse, thus clearing the way for a
most decorous divorce and readjustment. Neither is the writer's inner
thesis--the immoralness of ordinary morality, so far as I can make
out--particularly agreeable; but _Anita_, though far from being the
sort of person one would look to meet in real life, is intriguing
after a fashion, and just possibly repays the hard work needed for the
making of her acquaintance.

* * * * *

Miss M.E.F. IRWIN, whose previous books I remember to have greatly
enjoyed, has produced for her third a story of much originality and
power, called _Out of the House_ (CONSTABLE). The title may perplex
you at first. It comes from the struggles of the heroine to wrench
herself free from encompassing family ties and the tradition of
intermarriage, in order to join her life to the outside lover who
calls to her. You might therefore consider it, in some sense, a story
of eugenics, but that its outlook is emotional rather than
scientific. Yet the _Pomfrets_, as a result of family pride and
over-specialization, had become a sufficiently queer lot to warrant
a normal girl in any violence of house-breaking to be free of them.
Therein of course lies the cleverness of the book; it is full of
atmosphere, and the atmosphere is full of dust, _Pomfret_ dust. You
can feel how heavy to rebellious lungs must have been the air of the
_Pomfret_ houses, where lived _Philip_, the intriguing father, and his
sons _Anthony_ (a little mad) and _Charles_ (much more mad, but with
at least the instincts of a lunatic gentleman). It is not, you will
guess, precisely a lively tale, but the force of it is undeniable.
Miss IRWIN has now more than ever proved herself a fastidious and
careful artist, with a touch of austerity that gives weight to a tale
so frank