The Captive. By Phyllis Bottoms. (Chapman and Hall. 68.)—Miss Bottome
is wise. She lifts us right away into the middle of her story. She gives us no opportunity to criticize, no time to feel bored : there we are, suddenly planted down in that extravagant, absurd studio in Rome. "Here's one of my friends," she says in effect, "and here's another. This is Gibson, and this is Pat, and this is dear Maisie. And here, in her pretty clothes, is Rosamund Beaumont, who has come from England to work at her painting and share Maisie's lodgings." Rosamund "adored art"; but Maisie "knew very little about people who adored art. She lived by it. 'I suppose,' she answered, ' I'd adore it if I stopped to think about it.' " Here is fine material for a study in contrasting temperaments, and finely is the study made. Neither the atmosphere of Rosamund's life nor that of Maisie's is altogether right or happy, but the portraits of both girls are as true and as clever as any we have seen for a long time.
Previous page
