Once the state president of the conservative suffrage forces in
Ohio with whom I had worked the previous year wrote me a letter
pointing out what madness it was to talk of winning the amendment
in Congress "this session," and adding that

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"nobody but a fool would ever think of it, let alone speak of it
publicly." She was wise in politics; we were nice, eager, young
girls, but pretty ignorant-that was the gist of her remonstrance.
My vanity was aroused. Not wishing to be called "mad" or
"foolish" I sat down and answered her in a friendly spirit, with
the sole object of proving that we were wiser than she imagined.
I had never discussed this point with anybody, as I had been in
Washington only a few months and it had never occurred to me that
we were not right to talk of getting the amendment in that
particular session. But I answered my patronizing friend, in
effect, that of course we were not fools, that we knew we would
not get the amendment that session, but we saw no reason for not
demanding it at once and taking it when we got it.

When Miss Paul saw the carbon of that letter she said quietly,
pointing to the part where I had so nobly defended our sagacity,
"You must never say that again and never put it on paper." Seeing
my embarrassment, she hastened to explain. "You see, we can get
it this session if enough women care sufficiently to demand it
now."

Alice Paul brought back to the fight that note of immediacy which