These silent, thoughtful-looking workers, hurrying homewards through the darkening streets; these patient, shrewd-planning housewives casting their shadows on the drawn-down blinds: it was they who should be shaping the world, not the journalists to whom all life was but so much "copy." This monstrous conspiracy, once of the Sword, of the Church, now of the Press, that put all Government into the hands of a few stuffy old gentlemen, politicians, leader writers, without sympathy or understanding: it was time that it was swept away.

She would raise a new standard.

It should be, not "Listen to me, oh ye dumb," but, "Speak to me.

Tell me your hidden hopes, your fears, your dreams.

Tell me your experience, your thoughts born of knowledge, of suffering." She would get into correspondence with them, go among them, talk to them.
The difficulty, at first, would be in getting them to write to her, to open their minds to her.