It is precisely this power inherent in dialogue――the power of bringing into sharp vision the conflict of characters and points of view――which favours the increased use of it in modern novels. Serious modern novels tend to deal with matters of debate more than their predecessors of corresponding rank did――at once to treat more freely of matters open to question, and to find open to question more matters than our ancestors thought――or at all events admitted――to come within that category. It is both more efficacious and less tedious to let A and B reveal their characters and views to one another than for the author to tell the reader A’s character and views, and then B’s character and views, and to add the obvious statement that the two characters and views differ. We do not want merely to be told they differ; the drama lies in seeing them differing, and in seeing the difference gradually disclose and establish itself until it culminates in a struggle and ends in a drawn battle, or a hard-won victory. Of course, when a man is fighting alone in his own soul, you must rely on analysis――on analytic narrative (unless indeed you resort to an allegorical device), but where there is a conflict between two men――representing perhaps two types of humanity, or two sides of a disputed case――dialogue comes more and more to be used as the most technically effective medium at the writer’s disposal. But its increased use is not limited to this function. It is found possible to employ it more and more in the direct interest of literary form and technique. There are very many facts which the author of a novel desires to convey to his readers. A considerable proportion of them must be conveyed by narrative――so considerable a proportion that it is all gain if the number can be cut down. Here a skilful use of dialogue comes to the author’s aid. To take an example. The author wishes to acquaint the reader with the heroine’s personal appearance, since the reader is required to understand the hero’s passion and the villain’s wiles. We all recollect how in many old novels――even in those of the great masters of the craft――the fashion was to catalogue the lady’s charms on her first appearance on the scene. There they all were――the raven locks, the flashing eyes, the short curling upper lip, et cetera. You read them――and according to my experience you were in no small danger of entirely forgetting what manner of woman she was by the time you had turned half a dozen pages. But if you can see her beauty in action, so to speak, it’s a different thing. Say that her eyes are the feature on which special stress is desirable. Merely to state that ‘she had beautiful blue eyes’――well, you accept the fact, but it leaves you cold. But if the hero, by a dexterous compliment, gallant yet not obtrusive, can, first, tell _you_ about the eyes, secondly exhibit to you the effect the eyes are having on him, thirdly, get a step forward