” “The posters at least,” Anna answered quietly, “I have some claim to. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. But understand me thoroughly: I am offering you this job because my friend wants to help you.
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