a man must be a certain kind of fool to think he can put the world
forward by leaps and bounds. I think he must be a fool to assume that
the world wants truth when it wants only to be assured that it has
already found the truth for itself. The man who tells it what it already
believes is never called a fool--and perhaps he isn't. Indeed, I've come
to think he is less than a fool--that he's a mere polite echo. But oh,
Bernal, hold to your truth! Be the simple fool and worry the wise in the
cages they have built around themselves."

She was leaning eagerly forward, forgetful of all save that her starved
need was feasting royally.

"Don't give up; don't parrot the commoner fool's conceits back to him
for the sake of his solemn approval. Let those of his kind give him what
he wants, while you meet those who must have more. I'm one of them,
Bernal. At this moment I honestly don't know whether I'm a bad woman or
a good one. And I'm frightened--I'm so defenseless! Some little soulless
circumstance may make me decisively good or bad--and I don't want to be
bad! But give me what I want--I must have that, regardless of what it
makes me."

He was silent for a time, then at last spoke:

"I used to think you were a rebel, Nance. Your eyes betrayed it, and the
corners of your mouth went up the least little bit, as if they'd go
further up before they went down--as if you'd laugh away many solemn
respectabilities. But that's not bad. There are more things to laugh at
than are dreamed of. That's Hoover's entire creed, by the way."

She remembered the name from that old tale of Caleb Webster's.