realized he must not speak again.

Thereafter the fight with Anne went on within the arena of his mind. He
poured himself forth to her. For the first time in his life, he admitted
her to his inner beliefs and sympathies. He would not, he told her,
devote her money to the debasing of the world. Wherever she was, she had
not learned a page more than she had known when she wrote that letter to
him about the things that help the world and the things that hinder. He
didn't believe, he told her, she really wanted to learn. She wanted only
to be obeyed, to put her money where she had ordered it to go merely
because she had ordered it.

"You can't have it, Anne," he repeated, whenever his mind halted in
argument, and she kept pressing him back, back into his old hopeless
subserviency. "I'll tell you where it's going. It's going to France.
There won't be any palace, Anne. It's going into the land. It's going to
help little French boys and French girls to grow up with time enough and
strength enough to put their beautiful intelligence into saving the
earth. It's going to be that sort of a bulwark between them and the
enemies of the earth. And that's the only road to peace. Don't you see
it is, Anne? Don't you see it? You won't get peace by talking about it.
You wasted your money when you did it, all through war-time. You harmed
and hindered. Don't you know you did? If you don't, what's the use of
dying? Don't they know any more there than we do here? Anyway, I know
more than you did when you made your will, and that's what I'm going to
do. Train up beautiful intelligences, Anne, the ones that are likeliest
to work it all out practically: how to live, that's what they're going
to work out, how to live, how to help the world to live. Don't you see,
Anne? For God's sake, don't you see?"

She didn't see, or, if she did, she was too angry to give him the
comfort of knowing she did. But suddenly, in the midst of her anger,
there was a break, a stillness, though it had been still before. Perhaps
it was most like a stillness of mind, and he felt himself as suddenly
awake to a certainty that Anne had done with him. Once before she had
seemed to leave him, but this time it was for good. She had gone,
wherever the road was open to her. He had armed his will and sent it out
to fight her will. She was routed, and she would never challenge him
again. Perhaps, in her scorn, she had repudiated him. Perhaps the world,
if it were called on to pr