 And I remember well when Mr. Crippenden took me on his knees, put arm about my neck, his dear face close to mine, and he whispered... Shall I say it, Jack? Please do. He whispered that he would cross mountains unsharped, walk through storm uncovered to come to me. He said he cared not for hardship nor exposure, for every step he took brought him nearer to me. To the other and better half of his own soul, he would tell me.