The Times.—'Mr. White has written an audacious book.'
The Athenæum.—'Mr. White, with the aid of the necessary qualities—dry humour and delicate irony—succeeds nearly all the time. . . . The character is one exceedingly difficult to portray. . . . Mr. White has resisted the temptation to force and exaggerate the note, and this is probably the secret of his success.'
The Speaker.—'There is cleverness enough in Mr. Bailey-Martin to furnish forth a dozen novels. . . . It shows not only a remarkable knowledge of contemporary life, but a keen insight into character, and a considerable degree of literary power.'
The Daily Telegraph.—'The book teems with smart sayings and graphic characterisations, and cannot fail to make a mark among the cleverest novels of the year.'
The Daily Chronicle.—'The book must be pronounced a well-nigh unqualified triumph.'
The Literary World.—'Mr. Bailey-Martin is one of those books whose opportune arrival serves to reconcile the critic to his task. . . . Bright, fresh, vigorous in action, and told with a wealth of incident and humour.'
The New Budget, in a criticism on Mr. Percy White as a novelist, says:—'In my opinion, you are by far the cleverest of the younger—or shall I say, youngest?—generation of writers, with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. Street. . . . Your prose possesses in a high degree what I may call the lyrical note. At times you write like a poet rather than a writer of prose. . . . You serve in no school, and imitate no man. . . . In Mr. Bailey-Martin, though you write with an affectation of wholly dispassionate observation of your snob and his set, there is underlying that attitude a measureless contempt for your hero (if I may call him so) and his friends, which bites like an acid.'
The National Observer.—'Admirably clever, and deserving to be read by those who are bored with the average novel.'
The Bookman.—'One of the cleverest novels we have seen for many a day. . . . Take away from the average man a little of his affectation, and all his responsibilities; add some impudence, and the production of a Bailey-Martin is highly probable. We congratulate Mr. White on the vigour and vitality of his novel.'
The Scotsman.—'When it is remembered that this story is told by Mr. Bailey-Martin himself, and with a great air of verisimilitude, it will be seen how able the book is as a piece of literature. . . . It will interest and entertain every one who takes it up.'
London: WILLIAM HEINEMANN, 21 Bedford Street, W.C.
