Poet and novelist Elinor Wylie and her husband William Rose Benét, poet and editor of the Saturday Review of Literature, were central figures in early-twentieth century New York’s elite literary circles; their friends included Sinclair Lewis and Marianne Moore. Wylie’s poetry was praised by critics—of her third collection of poems, Black Armour (1923), one reviewer wrote: “There is not a misplaced word or cadence in it. There is not an extra syllable.”1 Wylie’s novels were also popular; of her Mr. Hodge and Mr. Hazard (1928), Alyse Gregory remarked “here is the pathos pinioned with a glancing stroke and displayed with the light and grace of an ironic princess whose insight has been nurtured in studious isolation.” Wylie inscribed this photo to her friend Carl Van Vechten: “Carl from Elinor, For God’s sake, look at the hands!”2