Faith Baldwin succeeds in sustaining a level of pleasant, facile tales, modern enough in tone to catch the patrons of circulating libraries who want their romance without saccharine, and who resent trash. Again she writes of New York, and of a girl with a good job who falls in love with a man with a good income, and finds it difficult to convince him that it is not his income she is seeking. Left high and dry, she marries another derelict -- and they find that happiness can be built on securer foundations than first love.