Doubleday played along hopefully with J. Van Dyke for several books, none bearing out the promise of the first. Now comes Chinese River on Lothrop's list, and it shows none of the hope even the less good ones indicated. There is nothing here but a certain suavity of style. The story is sensational, incredible. An English girl goes to China to marry the man she has long waited for, only to lose him after two indiscreet days in Shanghai. Then follows a series of adventures on the edge of disillusionment, on the edge of the declasse, on the edge of romance. At last, deserting the missionary whose need of her dwindles with his approaching good fortune, she returns to a Cockney yearning for culture and the heights, and indifferent to death without her by his side. There is no feel of China, now or ever. Tripe -- pass it up.