The Press: The Beaver at 84

On the terrace of his villa, La Capponcina (Little Capon), overlooking Monte Carlo, William Maxwell Aitken, Lord Beaverbrook, leans on a Malacca cane. He looks as old as he is: 84. Age has bleached his skin to wrinkled parchment; one foot is shoeless, a concession to gout; a floppy, broad-brimmed straw hat shields him from the hot Mediterranean sun. But the sun has not been up much longer than the Beaver, and he is not there merely to bask.

A messenger arrives as bidden, with all the papers from London. The Beaver frowns intently...

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