"I hate to see you do evil," she said.
"This is fanaticism," he muttered, looking at her obstinate white face, and steady eyes. "Sheer fanaticism."
It began almost to frighten him.
"You shall not do this evil," she said. "You shall not."
Mark stared at her for a moment. Then he turned away.
"I'll not argue with you," he said. "But, if you had done what you meant to do, if you had destroyed my labour, I would have recreated it, every sentence, every word."
"No, Mark!"
"I would, I would," he said. "The world shall have it, the world should have had it even then. Go to your room."
She left him. But her face had not changed or lost its expression.
She went upstairs slowly. And the spirit of her mother went with her. She felt sure of that.