"All right," he said. "Go ahead. You shall have your tub, and a weekly
audience of a million readers for as long as you can keep them
interested. Up with anything you like, and down with everything you
don't. Be careful not to land me in a libel suit. Call the whole Bench
of Bishops hypocrites, and all the ground landlords thieves, if you will:
but don't mention names. And don't get me into trouble with the police.
Beyond that, I shan't interfere with you."
She was about to speak.
"One stipulation," he went on, "that every article is headed with your
photograph."
He read the sudden dismay in her eyes.
"How else do you think you are going to attract their attention?" he
asked her. "By your eloquence! Hundreds of men and women as eloquent as
you could ever be are shouting to them every day. Who takes any notice
of them? Why should they listen any the more to you--another cranky
highbrow: some old maid, most likely, with a bony throat and a beaky
nose. If Woman is going to come into the fight she will have to use her
own weapons. If she is prepared to do that she'll make things hum with a
vengeance.
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