eirs.' He is the ordinary, desirous man,
the male. Listen to this analysis of man: 'He has a need to impress
himself on the world he finds outside him, an impulse that drives him to
achieve his ends recklessly, ruthlessly, through any depth of suffering
and conflict ... it is just by means of the qualities that are often so
irritating, their tiresome restlessness, their curiosity, their
disregard for security, for seemliness, even for life itself, that men
have mastered the world and filled it with the wealth of civilisation.
It is after this foolish, disorganised fashion of theirs, each of
them--difficult, touchy creatures--busy with his personal ambitions,
that they have armed the race with science, dignified it with art--one
can take men lightly but one cannot take lightly the things that men
have done.'

That sort of man sweats his waitresses because such is his duty to the
shareholders. It is in this sort of man, Mr Heyham, who wants more
money, in Edward Day, the prig who hates spending it, that Miss Amber
Reeves realises herself. Analysis rather than evocation is her mission;
she does not as a rule seek beauty, and when she strives, as in her last
novel, _Helen in Love_, where a cheap little minx is kissed on the
beach and is thus inspired, Miss Amber Reeves fails to achieve beauty in
people; she achieves principally affectation. Beauty is not her
_metier_; irony and pity are nearer to her, which is not so bad if we
reflect that such is the motto of Anatole France. Oh! she is no mocking
literary sprite, as the Frenchman, nor has she his graces; she is
somewhat tainted by the seriousness of life, but she has this to
distinguish her from her fellows: she can achieve laughter without
hatred.

One should not, however, dismiss in a few words this latest novel. One
can disregard the excellent picture of the lower-middle class family
from which Helen springs, its circumscribed nastiness, its vulgar
pleasure in appearances, for Miss Amber Reeves has done as good work
before. But one must observe her new impulse towards the rich, idle,
cultured people, whom she idealises so that they appear as worn
ornaments of silver-gilt. It seems that she is reacting against
indignation, that she is turning away from social reform towards the
caste that has achieved a corner in graces. It may be that she has come
to think the world incurable and wishes to retire as an anchorite ...
only she retires to Capua: this is not good, for any