"A vivid and powerful story. Mr. Oppenheim know the world, and the unusual nature of the setting in which his leading characters live gives this book destinction among the novels of the season."--Vanity Fair
long enough, interposed.
"Mary calls herself a bit of a philanthropist, you see, Mr. Brooks," he explained. "Goes down into Medchester and teaches factory girls to play the piano on Wednesday evenings. Much good may it do them."
There was a curious gleam in the girl's eyes for a moment which checked the words on Brooks' lips, and led him to precipitately abandon the conversation. But afterwards, while Selina was pedalling at the pianola and playing havoc with the expression-stops, he crossed the room and stood for a moment by her chair.
"I should like you to tell me about your class," he said. "I have several myself--of different sorts."
She closed her magazine, but left her finger in the place.
"Oh, mine is a very unambitious undertaking," she said. "Kate Stuart and I started it for the girls in her father's factory, and we aim at nothing higher than an attempt to direct their taste in fiction. They bring their Free Library lists to us, and we mark them together. Then we a