nothing simple
and no one unmixed, and in this way gets beauty, and through beauty the
only reality worth having.

In a land like England, where there is great wealth, little education
and little general thought, people like Miss Mayor's heroine are common;
we have all met not one or two but dozens of her; we know her emptiness,
her tenacity, her futility, savagery and want of light; all circles
contain some examples of her, all people some of her shortcomings; and
judgment of her, even the isolation of her in portraiture, is dangerous,
since the world does not consist of her and life needs her. In life as
in art those who condemn are those who do not understand; and it is
always a sign of a writer's power, that he or she keeps from direct
praise or blame of imagined character. Miss Mayor arrives at an
understanding of her heroine's character by looking at her through a
multitude of different eyes, not as though she were her creator, but as
if she were her world, looking on and happening, infinitely active and
various, coming into infinite contrast, not without tragedy, but also
never without fun. The world is, of course, the comparatively passive
feminine world, but few modern books (if any) have treated of that
world so happily, with such complete acceptance, unbiassed and
unprejudiced, yet with such selective tact and variety of gaiety. She
comes to the complete understanding of Henrietta by illuminating all the
facets in her character and all the threads of her destiny, and this is
an unusual achievement, made all the more remarkable by a brightness and
quickness of mind which give delightful life to a multitude of incidents
which are in themselves new to fiction. Her touch upon all her world is
both swift and unerring; but the great charm of her work is its
brightness and unexpectedness; it lights up so many little unsuspected
corners in a world that is too plentifully curtained.

JOHN MASEFIELD, 1913

THE THIRD MISS SYMONS

CHAPTER I

Henrietta was the third daughter and fifth child of Mr. and Mrs. Symons,
so that enthusiasm for babies had declined in both parents by the time
she arrived. Still, in her first few months she was bound to be
important and take up a great deal of time. When she was two, another
boy was born, and she lost the honourable position of youngest. At five
her life attained its zenith. She became a very pretty, charming little
girl, as her two elder sisters had done before