At forty-six
he is the whole shipping firm and a Cabinet Minister to boot. I would
ask Mr. PATERNOSTER if such a man, who has, _ex hypothesi_, been
so busy that he needs the sight of an out-of-work being tended and
caressed by his faithful wife in a London Park to suggest to him that
there exists such a thing as Love, with a capital L; needs also a
later conversation with the same out-of-work to convince him that
there is really something the matter with the industrial system (and
wouldn't it be a good idea to do something about it now one is a
Cabinet Minister?)--I ask Mr. PATERNOSTER, I say, if this is the sort
of man to take it all so sweetly when the girl of his choice prefers
his cousin and secretary to him? I think not. Our author has woven
his story without any reference to the play of circumstance upon
his characters. I am afraid he has shirked the difficult labour of
artistic plausibility, and I leave it to moralists to decide whether
his excellent intentions and sentiments redeem this aesthetic offence.
***
_Weird o' the Pool_ (MURRAY) may be described as a subterranean book.
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