Strangers has the best chance of popularity of anything Houghton has written, but it is distinctly less important a book than Jonathan Scrivener and not a step forward in a career that many are watching with interest. Again he portrays the many-faceted man, but directly, through the phases of his life, rather than through outside viewpoints. A story of a man who can only live fully in one person at a time, and who -- in so living -- exhausts his own powers of sustaining a relation. First we see him in his marriage, in which the years have succeeded in separating him from his wife. Then we see him in relation to the girl who becomes his mistress, -- first completely in the trammels of his own absorption, then suddenly finished. Houghton's solution is a lazy way out -- and weakens his major thesis. He is a master craftsman of style -- but he has still fallen short in mastering the technique of story telling. This bears indication of hasty work, a new fault in him.