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to abook which has attracted more attention among thoughtful people than anynovel since 'Robert Elsmere.'"

  "Oh, but don't you see," exclaimed Laura Glyde, "that it's just thedark hopelessness of it all--the wonderful tone-scheme of black onblack--that makes it such an artistic achievement? It reminded me whenI read it of Prince Rupert's _maniere noire_...the book is etched, notpainted, yet one feels the colour-values so intensely...."

  "Who is he?" Mrs. Leveret whispered to her neighbour. "Some one she'smet abroad?"

  "The wonderful part of the book," Mrs. Bellinger conceded, "is that itmay be looked at from so many points of view. I hear that as a study ofdeterminism Professor Lupton ranks it with 'The Data of Ethics.'"

  "I'm told that Osric Dane spent ten years in preparatory studiesbefore beginning to write it," said Mrs. Plinth. "She looks upeverything--verifies everything. It has always been my principle, asyou know. Nothing would induce me, now, to put aside a book before I'dfinished it, just because I can buy as many more as I want."

  "And what do _you_ think of 'The Wings of Death'?" Mrs. Roby abruptlyasked her.

  It was the kind of question that might be termed out of order, and theladies glanced at each other as though disclaiming any share in sucha breach of discipline. They all knew there was nothing Mrs. Plinth somuch disliked as being asked her opinion of a book. Books were writtento read; if one read them what more could be expected? To be questionedin detail regarding the contents of a volume seemed to her as great anoutrage as being searched for smuggled laces at the Custom House. Theclub had always respected this idiosyncrasy of Mrs. Plinth's. Suchopinions as she had were imposing and substantial: her mind, like herhouse, was furnished with monumental "pieces" that were not meant tobe disarranged; and it was one of the unwritten rules of the Lunch Clubthat, within her own province, each member's habits of thought should berespected. The meeting therefore closed with an increased sense, on thepart of the other ladies, of Mrs. Roby's hopeless unfitness to be one ofthem.