Good, grey Cordell Hull had worked over his speech with the patience of a thorough man. He had dictated it to a battery of secretaries, revised and corrected it in his laborious, Victorian longhand. Now, sitting at his desk before twelve microphones, he carefully took his hornrimmed pince-nez from the breast pocket of his grey suit, carefully shook out the anchoring length of black ribbon, carefully spoke to the world about World War II.
Said Secretary Hull:
"This latest assault on human freedom is, in a profound sense, a searching test for nations...
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