The deep lines around Franklin Roosevelt's mouth had bitten deeper; his hair was thinner, turning from grey to white. But the powerful shoulders, the vitality of a big man, the zest for a good, tension-snapping belly laugh, were as big as ever.

Franklin Roosevelt, who thrives on salt air, missed the fishing trips prescribed in peacetime by Rear Admiral Ross T. Mclntire, the White House physician. He missed his regular dips in the White House swimming pool, for which even weekends were now too crowded, and the relaxation of an Old-Fashioned before a leisurely dinner. He was more subject...

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