ent that will fit in all the different contexts. But this is only one of many classes of obstacles which encountered us on almost every page. I think, indeed, that my collaborators and I may take it as no small compliment that some of our critics have apparently not realised the difficulties of our task, or divined the laborious hours which have often gone to the turning of a single phrase. And, in not a few cases, the difficulties have proved sheer impossibilities. I will cite only one instance. Writing of The Master Builder, a very competent, and indeed generous, critic finds in it "a curious example of perhaps inevitable inadequacy… 'Duty! Duty! Duty!' Hilda once exclaims in a scornful outburst. 'What a short, sharp, stinging word!' The epithets do not sees specially apt. But in the original she cries out 'Pligt! Pligt! Pligt!' and the very word stings and snaps." I submit that in this criticism there is one superfluous word—to wit, the "perhaps" which qualifies "inevitable." For the term used by Hilda, and for the idea in her mind, there is only one possible English equivalent: "Duty." The actress can speak it so as more or less to justify Hilda's feeling towards it; and, for the rest, the audience must "piece out our imperfections with their thoughts" and assume that the Norwegian word has rather more of a sting in its sound. It might be possible, no doubt, to adapt Hilda's phrase to the English word, and say, "It sounds like the swish of a whip-lash," or
