On the outside, there is no quit in the Clinton campaign. They keep talking about finding a way to count the votes and seat the delegates for her from the Florida and Michigan primaries that were ruled rogue operations by the Democratic National Committee. They keep churning out charts that (selectively) show that she would be the far superior candidate in the fall. They boast of raising $1 million after losing North Carolina in a landslide and eking out a victory in Indiana.

Sen. Hillary Clinton soldiered on in West Virginia. She traveled to Oregon and will campaign in Kentucky. Chances are she will drop by South Dakota, Montana, and almost certainly, Puerto Rico if she has the time and money to get there.

But, as Clinton said of herself in a recent debate, of the many things she is, "dumb" is not one of them.

So there will likely come a moment soon when Clinton will acknowledge that for all of her work, all of those countless hours, sleepless nights, phone calls, e-mails, speeches, hands shaken and drinks taken, that she came up short.

The greatest recognition that could be given to her would be to acknowledge the triumph in her defeat.

She shattered the ceiling even without getting into the office. She ran one of the most disciplined, tough and indefatigable campaigns of the past 50 years. She talked about her comfort in the kitchen while she was throwing the kitchen sink at Sen. Barack Obama. She spoke with fluency and passion about every important issue the nation faces.

She deployed her husband to great effect in rural areas. She tethered her daughter to her side in the more public venues, cementing a powerful image.

She should have no regrets about what she didn't do.

And she retains a remarkable amount of leverage. As the primary campaign mercifully comes to a close June 3, Clinton can play an important role in framing the fall campaign. She can do that either by focusing on the Republicans' presumptive nominee, John McCain, or by focusing on Obama. She knows the smarter play.

The next round of stories you read on the subject are likely to raise the question, "What does Hillary want?" Alone among the challengers to Obama, hers is a legitimate query. She could help him greatly in the fall, not so much with her newfound friends, those working-class white guys swilling Budweiser, but with the women who sustained her candidacy and nearly delivered her the nomination.

The soft whispers for her to go quietly miss a couple of important points. She has lived a life where, for much of it, women were expected to do just that. She punched every major ticket along the way, at Wellesley, Yale Law, and a tour on a congressional committee investigating Watergate. She worked hard for George McGovern in 1972 only to have McGovern support Obama.

She suppressed her ambition and went along for the long ride as Bill Clinton's spouse, but never in a traditional three-paces-behind, Jacqueline Kennedy sort of way. She was a law partner when that was not common. She helped complete the picture for her husband's 1992 campaign, the two-career Baby Boom couple out to save the world. She took on extraordinary responsibility to deliver universal healthcare. She failed, but didn't give up the fight.

She endured the indignity and humiliation of her husband's indiscretion, and moved forward. She took on the challenge of running for the U.S. Senate representing New York when it was hardly a sure thing. Her campaign was a study in discipline and effectiveness, to the point that she had only a nominal challenge when she won re-election.

She began this campaign not with any notion that she wasn't capable, but the opposite — as the undisputed front runner. That was another triumph. She was not seen as "the woman" candidate. She was the candidate who happened to be a woman.

She wasn't denied the nomination. She wasn't cheated. She just competed fiercely and did not win. That doesn't mean her candidacy was not a triumph.

Michael Tackett is the Chicago Tribune's Washington bureau chief. Reach him via e-mail at mtackett@tribune.com.