A Polite Visitor

May Sinclair, a Guest, Is Not Blatant

If anyone should ask me, I would say that Miss May Sinclair was the almost perfect English visitor to these shores--and this quite aside from the fact, or perhaps you may think because of the fact--that she is one of our finest living novelists. She came unheralded by brass bands, press agents, or agents of any sort. Such reporters and interviewers as wrote to make appointments with her she saw. The dignity of these meetings was admirably reflected in their published interviews, proving that the American reporter has, after all, respect for a fine mind and a becoming presence.

Miss Sinclair is short, she dresses quietly and she has a countenance which, in repose, seems a bit brooding; when her face lights she has the effect of being just a little startled, or, perhaps, amused. In her sweetness of manner and speech, she displays none of the telling irony that is so often present in her books. In this she reminds me somewhat of Zona Gale, although May Sinclair is never betrayed into arrant sentimentalities as is too often Miss Gale.

There are those admirers of Miss Sinclair who recall the days of The Divine Fire and Mary Olivier with regret and find in them their favorite work of this novelist; but, for me, the foolery of Mr. Waddington of Wyck, the perfection of detail in Ann Severn and the Fieldings, the devastating character portrayal of A Cure of Souls seem more intensely original, more characteristic of her and of her time.

It was a pleasure to see her, and to know that she will spend some time with us here, that she likes us as people, that she does not care to analyze us, that she has come to us a guest and a most welcome guest--and that we are honored both by her presence and her attitude.

J. F.