“It’s more difficult than that.  When I say that I’m selfish I mean that the only thing I consider about women is whether they’re likely to prove useful in building up real political power for women.  And you?  Shall I be frank?  Remember when I say ‘you’ I don’t mean you alone.  I’m thinking of thousands of women who come to Washington and New York and Chicago every year, dissatisfied at home and seeking a sign in the heavens—­women of all sorts, from timid mothers of fifty in cotton gloves, to girls just out of Vassar who organize strikes in their own fathers’ factories!  All of you are more or less useful to me, but only a few of you can take my place, because I have one virtue (only one):  I have given up father and mother and children for the love of God.

“Here’s the test for you:  Do you come to ‘conquer the East,’ as people say, or do you come to conquer yourself?

“It’s so much more complicated than any of you know—­so much more complicated than I knew when I put on Ground Grippers and started out to reform the world.  The final complication in ‘conquering Washington’ or ‘conquering New York’ is that the conquerors must beyond all things not conquer!  It must have been so easy in the good old days when authors dreamed only of selling a hundred thousand volumes, and sculptors of being feted in big houses, and even the Uplifters like me had a simple-hearted ambition to be elected to important offices and invited to go round lecturing.  But we meddlers have upset everything.  Now the one thing that is disgraceful to any of us is obvious success.  The Uplifter who is very popular with wealthy patrons can be pretty sure that he has softened his philosophy to please them, and the author who is making lots of money—­poor things, I’ve heard ’em apologizing for it to the shabby bitter-enders; I’ve seen ’em ashamed of the sleek luggage they got from movie rights.

“Do you want to sacrifice yourself in such a topsy-turvy world, where popularity makes you unpopular with the people you love, and the only failure is cheap success, and the only individualist is the person who gives up all his individualism to serve a jolly ungrateful proletariat which thumbs its nose at him?”

Carol smiled ingratiatingly, to indicate that she was indeed one who desired to sacrifice, but she sighed, “I don’t know; I’m afraid I’m not heroic.  I certainly wasn’t out home.  Why didn’t I do big effective——­”

“Not a matter of heroism.  Matter of endurance.  Your Middlewest is double-Puritan—­prairie Puritan on top of New England Puritan; bluff frontiersman on the surface, but in its heart it still has the ideal of Plymouth Rock in a sleet-storm.  There’s one attack you can make on it, perhaps the only kind that accomplishes much anywhere:  you can keep on looking at one thing after another in your home and church and bank, and ask why it is, and who first laid down the law that it had to be that way.  If enough of us do this impolitely enough, then we’ll become civilized in merely twenty thousand years or so, instead of having to wait the two hundred thousand years that my cynical anthropologist friends allow. . . .  Easy, pleasant, lucrative home-work for wives:  asking people to define their jobs.  That’s the most dangerous doctrine I know!”