Incidentally, _Mere
Gontran_ herself, with her cats, whose tails wave in the gloom "like
seaweed," and her tawdry spiritualism--"key-hole peeping at infinity"
the heroine (or the author) rather happily calls it--is one of the
least forgettable figures in the galaxy. I have no space to indicate
what turns of this glittering kaleidoscope eventually bring _Sylvia_
and _Michael_ together during the Serbian retreat, though there are
scenes upon which I should like to dwell, notably that of the death
of _Guy Hazlewood_, an incident whose admirable restraint shows Mr.
MACKENZIE at his best. One question I have to ask, and that is how
has _Sylvia_ learnt to imitate so bewilderingly the mannerisms of
_Michael_? Her soliloquies especially might have come straight from
the first volume of _Sinister Street_, so much more do they suggest
the cloistered adolescence of Carlington Road than a development from
her own feverish youth. While I cannot pretend that she has for me the
compelling vitality of _Jenny Pearl_, her adventures certainly make
(for those who are not too nice about the morals or the conversation
of their company) an exhilarating, even intoxicating entertainment,
the end of which is, I am glad to think, still remote.
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