"Yes."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Marse Robert!"
Grizzled veterans were sobbing like children.
The war had ended—the most futile and ferocious of human follies. When it shall cease on earth at last, then, and not until then, will the soul of man leap to its final triumph, for the energy of the universe will flow through the fingers of workmen, artists, authors, inventors and healers. On this issue the saving of a world awaits the word of the mothers of men.