Just listen--it sounds better read aloud
than when you pore over it silently: "THE COURT OF KELLYON CASTLE.
A ROMANCE OF THE MIDDLE AGES. BY ERNEST FIELD. In the belief
that we were for a while escaping the monotonous repetition of
wearisome details in modern social scenery, analyses of
uninteresting character, or the unnatural unfoldings of a
sensation plot, we took this volume into our hands with a feeling
of pleasure. We were disposed to beguile ourselves with the fancy
that some new change might possibly be rung upon donjon keeps,
chain and plate armour, deeply scarred cheeks, tender maidens
disguised as pages, to which we had not listened long ago." Now,
that's a very good beginning, in my opinion, and one to be proud
of having brought out of a man who has never seen you.'
'Ah, yes,' murmured Elfride wofully. 'But, then, see further on!'
'Well the next bit is rather unkind, I must own,' said Mrs.
Swancourt, and read on. '"Instead of this we found ourselves in
the hands of some young lady, hardly arrived at years of
discretion, to judge by the silly device it has been thought worth
while to adopt on the title-page, with the idea of disguising her
sex."'
'I am not "silly"!' said Elfride indignantly. 'He might have
called me anything but that.'
'You are not, indeed. Well:--"Hands of a young lady...whose
chapters are simply devoted to impossible tournaments, towers, and
escapades, which read like flat copies of like scenes in the
stories of Mr.
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