This concerns an egocentric young lady named Clara Batchelor who- rather dully-breaks in and out of adolescence and love in England around the year 1914. This novel, and a very typical novel it is, is Clara's search for inner peace- both in religion and in her family group. Unfortunately, Clara is in love with her father (although the author is not too aware of this) which complicates her progress. A convent, trips home in the interim, a Protestant school, an incestuous night at the opera with Papa, friendships, trips to the family farm, one kiss in an orchard, contempt for her mother- these are the patterns of Clara's life. Aimless and uncertain after school, she is offered a job as governess in a Catholic home. With her charge, a child named Charles, Clara does some fancy regressing. While playing a game one day, Charles leaps from a wall and is instantly killed. Clara blames herself, and rightly so, and through this traumatic experience there is just the barest possibility that Clara may emerge a more integrated personality.... Clara is obnoxious, her father is the scholar, her mother is the sofa, novel-reading, window gazing female, her two aunts are delightful, her friend Nicole is enchanting. There is too much concentration on Clara however and not enough on the others who have possibilities.