Probably the feminine reader will more thoroughly understand and sympathize with Kitty Dereham’s distress of mind and spirit in her struggles with the problems presented to her, and even with her unconditional surrender to Garth Vincent. If so, it will be because women lay greater stress upon uncompromising truthfulness in a man than in a mere artificial exterior. These three characters are the predominating ones in the book, and they are drawn with a good deal of skill; those who assume the minor rôles are used with good effect to carry on the action and develop the story naturally and logically. The style of the narrative is a little vexatious at times, but, on the whole, the story is extremely well told, and there is a succession of more or less dramatic episodes that make the book very interesting reading. * * * * * It happens, sometimes, that a novel is written for the publication of which no good reason can be given. Fortunately, such occurrences are rare, even in these days of “the literary deluge.” One such book has lately appeared from the press of G. P. Putnam’s Sons, under the title of “Belchamber,” the author of which is Howard Overing Sturgis. The book is one of undeniable literary excellence in many respects, a fact which merely adds to the regret one must feel at its equally undeniable immorality in tone, its artistic iconoclasm, its distinctly pessimistic tendency, and its deplorably bad taste in its frank discussion of conjugal matters, some of which are commonly referred to only in treatises on physiology. It is a story of English society, and, notwithstanding all the unpleasant truths that have been and may be told of this branch of “high life,” it is difficult to believe that any such considerable portion of it as Mr. Sturgis deals with is so destitute of attractive characters. It is for this reason that the book cannot be read without a feeling of depression. People as depraved as Cissy Eccleston and Claude Morland, so sordidly unprincipled as Lady Eccleston, so uselessly selfish as Arthur, so nearly degenerate, physically and mentally, as Sainty, the hero, is intentionally represented to be, should, if they are to be used in fiction at all, be subjected to the counterbalancing influence of decent people; but in “Belchamber” there is no such relief. Sainty, otherwise Lord Belchamber, in spite of the fictitious virtues with which his creator seeks to invest him, cannot but repel the healthy-minded reader by his pitiable weakness of character, to say nothing of his physical infirmities, the more that they are the consequences of the excesses of his progenitors. * * * * *