EVA LITCHFIELD was banished from Eden by either beauty or genius, whichever one chose to consider the irrelevant factor of her character. If she herself had known what she wanted most, she would have liked to write her novels in a tranquil, mental world where there was no room for lovers. She was capable of going through matrimony without experiencing with her body the slightest nervous reaction. Her soul might be bruised and her mind astonished, but no physical impression would have been made on her. She was like a crystal. A blow might leave her unscratched while the next blow might strike on the line of cleavage and shatter her. Eva’s marriage to Nicholas Van Suydam of the Dutch Van Suydams who inherited Manhattan and upheld the ancient family traditions with stolid charm, was doomed to unhappiness. Miss Glenn creates the strangely living and attractive personality of a lovely, untouchable woman and a genius, against the background of contemporary literary New York, a New York brilliantly sketched with wit and a light touch of satire. In subject _East of Eden_ is a vivid contrast to Miss Glenn’s _Transport_ and _A Short History of Julia_. [Illustration: EAST OF EDEN] BOOKS BY _Isa Glenn_ EAST OF EDEN A SHORT HISTORY OF JULIA TRANSPORT SOUTHERN CHARM LITTLE PITCHERS HEAT EAST OF EDEN _Isa Glenn_ [Illustration] DOUBLEDAY, DORAN AND COMPANY, INC. GARDEN CITY, N. Y. 1932 PRINTED AT THE _Country Life Press_, GARDEN CITY, N. Y., U. S. A. COPYRIGHT, 1932 BY ISA GLENN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED FIRST EDITION THEREFORE _the LORD God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken._ _So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life._ GENESIS iii. 23-24. [Illustration] CONTENTS PART ONE _Page 3_ PART TWO _Page 83_ PART THREE _Page 133_ PART FOUR _Page 221_ PART FIVE _Page 281_ PART ONE [Illustration] I I realized that I was sorry to be back in New York. Molly Underhill had telephoned: “Oh, darling, I’m so remorseful that we didn’t meet your ship! Eva Litchfield and I were going to be waiting for you with cheers because you’re home at last, and then Eva couldn’t get away. She’s in the last throes of a book, you know--or maybe you don’t know; you’ve become an expatriate, haven’t you?” Gasping, lisping, gushingly affectionate because she was speaking to me instead of talking about me, she eventually came to the point and invited me to dine with her at our old haunt, one of those establishments run by an Italian whose name it would be a shame to give. There was much to hear, she assured me; things had been popping, as they could pop only in New York. “But I’ll tell all, in the taxi,” she promised. “Only, the drive will be short, and the tale is long.”