This is the story of an aristocrat and his bride who voyage East for the East India Company only to find disaster, discontent, and disillusionment. Jennifer is dainty—and feminine. Gerald is dazzling—and masculine. True caricatures of their time, sketched by the hand of a most extraordinary stylist, it is delicate, diminutive, and diabolically clever—just what a poet like Miss Wylie should do.
D. G. W.
Editor’s Table
“That,” said Han proudly, as he surveyed his handiwork, “is probably not only the greatest Editor’s Table ever written, ‘above all Greek, above all Roman fame’, it is also without doubt the most sublime Editor’s Table which will ever be written. It—”
“It looks like the Union Jack with an advertisement printed in the middle of it,” interrupted Mr. and Mrs. Stevens in chorus, “and that is not allowed by the Department of Internal Revenue. See Bulletin 12345678909876543210 X.” And Mrs. Stevens triumphantly produced the document in question from her reticule.
“Ut qwong qwong! Jui day tong? Ut shaa maan! Jup bun long?” replied Han tersely. (For he always resorted to Chinese in moments of excitement.)
“Oh,” said Mr. and Mrs. Stevens, Ariel, and Cherrywold.
“Yes,” said Han, dropping into the vernacular, “but even that is not its chief advantage. Inspect it carefully, gentlemen. Not even in the celebrated ‘Forties’ referred to by our recent and acrimonious reviewer was there ever an Editor’s Table so magnificently devoid not only of sense but even of the slightest trace of meaning. It combines Da-Daism, Secessionism, Futurism, Patism and Presentism—”