The book I poked open the most was Francis’ copy of The Nature of the Chemical Bond. Increasingly often, when Francis needed it to look up a crucial bond length, it would turn up on the quarter bench of lab space that John had given to me for experimental work. Somewhere in Pauling’s masterpiece I hoped the real secret would lie. Thus Francis’ gift to me of a second copy was a good omen. On the flyleaf was the inscription, “To Jim from Francis—Christmas ‘51.” The remnants of Christianity were indeed useful.
