Hillary Clinton proved tonight she loves nothing so much as herself.

Rather than admitting defeat and laying down arms, she spit in Obama's eye and dared him to cross her private army of followers.

After a few obligatory sentences of conciliation, she renewed her claims of being "the strongest candidate," of having "won more votes than any primary candidate in history," of being more electable and more ready to be commander-in-chief.

She spoke of having witnessed the suffering of average, hard-working Americans — as if Obama has not. She called the rolls of Democrats by occupation — as if Obama doesn't have old women, students, farmers, nurses, teachers and every kind of Democrat she held up as her own.

And in all her talk about how wonderful, wise, compassionate and popular she is, she never mentioned Obama after the second minute of her speech.

The speech she gave the night she lost and he won.

The speech that begrudged him the spotlight on the night he became the first person of color to become a major-party nominee in the history of any Western country.

The speech that confirmed her inability to see beyond her own needs.

She refused to save the party another day of competing realities, incongruous messages, uncertain plans. She could not bring herself to allow Obama his hard-earned moment in the sun. She could not let go of her power base or her threat to wield it for her own ends. She would not urge her private army to merge with that other great army commanded by Obama under the banner of the Democratic Party.

Behold Hillary Clinton, the candidate who will go down fighting or not at all. If she were battling someone other than her own party's nominee, that quality might be a virtue instead of the damnable vice that willfully threatens Obama still.