nothing, except feeling the wind blow through my hair in a sailboat, and stealing (don't look so shocked!) a sprig of lavender, sun-kissed and bee-beset, from Ann Hathaway's garden, has given me quite the same sort of utterly joyous delight your books have"
From the clipping bureau came best-seller lists. O Fair Dove. O Fair Dove. O Fair Dove. Reviews. She read:
"Its lovely pages glow with a sort of luminous tenderness, a 'light that never was, on sea or land.'"
"If more novels like O Fair Dove came to the critic's table, how much happier life would be! Written with exquisite sensitiveness and poignant beauty, this whimsical romance demands the use of the important word genius"
So buoyant, she felt she hardly touched the pillow. Drinking the delicious hot coffee, she dreamily reread "exquisite sensitiveness—poignant beauty—genius—" When Curtis looked
