Jane Withersteen was the incarnation of selflessness.

He experienced wonder and terror, exquisite pain and rapture.

What were all the shocks life had dealt him compared to the thought of such loyal and generous friendship?
And instantly, as if by some divine insight, he knew himself in the remaking--tried, found wanting; but stronger, better, surer--and he wheeled to Jane Withersteen, eager, joyous, passionate, wild, exalted.
He bent to her; he left tears and kisses on her hands.
"Jane, I--I can't find words--now," he said.

"I'm beyond words.

Only--I understand.