Tree Farm Books


    It was Bullitt's zenith. There was a period of some months when the jocund and overactive United States Ambassador to the Third Republic had plenty of grounds for regarding himself as FDR's viceroy for Europe.
     He became an intimate of Leon Blum — whose "quicksilver intelligence" he sketched out for Roosevelt, set off by "the little fluttery gestures of the hyper-intellectual queer ones." In turn Edouard Deladier and Paul Renaud admitted Bullitt into their confidences. Embassy parties were spectacular.
     So bald, so pink — Bullitt played the jackanapes, the nabob with impunity enough to carry it off. Whenever he was displeased or overjoyed a kind of deep spreading blush rose slowly to dominate his high, glistening temples, sometimes reflecting the scarlet of the blood-red carnations he affected in his hand-stitched buttonhole. These he discarded immediately once he detected wilting — like his many political enthusiasms, carpers around Roosevelt gibed. [p. 53]

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