Very delightfully, and in his own charming manner, does Mr. Hewlett tell the story of a man who fell in love with his wife. Taking a quite everyday couple in the English professional class, a veil of romance is thrown about their lives which lifts them out of the ordinary run, and Lucy is sure to appeal to a large class of readers who will be quite contented with the way in which Love and Lucy meet. --The American club woman magazine
rything to that. Women have to learn the virtue of giving up, as well as of giving. Giving is easy; any woman knows that; but giving up. Let that be seen as a subtle, a sublimated form of giving, and the lesson is learned. But practice makes perfect. You must never relax the rein. He never did. There was all the ingenuity and patience of a woman about him.
By this time, after twelve years and more of marriage, they were very good friends; or, why not say, old acquaintances? There are two kinds of crystallisation in love affairs, with all respect to M. de Stendhal. One kind hardens the surfaces without any decorative effect. There are no facets visible, no angles to catch the light. In the case of the Macartney marriage I suspect this to have been the only kind--a kind of callosity, protective and numbing. The less they were thrown together, she found, the better friends they were. At home they were really no more than neighbours; abroad she was Mrs. Macartney, and never would dine out without him. She