Molly had made up her mind in the first days of our acquaintance that I was gifted and bedeviled—and the man for her. She made it her duty on earth to encourage, protect, support, and—in the end—tolerate me in whatever I did. It nearly killed her, but she did not waver from her self-imposed duty, not once, not ever. From the day we became lovers until the day she died, in 1963, I was—and our four children became—Molly’s whole life. I was never again to know a love so unwavering. I was luckier than I knew. Did I deserve it? I don’t ask that question.