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Frances PerkinsFrances Perkins
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McIntyre said, “I don't know. You might ask Miss Perkins. She's asked for ten o'clock too.”

So Richberg said to me, “What are we asked for?”

I said, “I don't know, Richberg. I have no idea. I was called back from the country to be here at ten o'clock. McIntyre has just told me that General Johnson is also asked.”

“The devil he is,” said Richberg. He hadn't heard that. He just thought he was asked for ten o'clock.

In a few minutes in comes General Johnson into the Green Parlor, looking very red in the face and very puffy, looking what I would call “badly.” I don't mean to say that I thought he'd been drinking recently or that morning, but he looked the way he sometimes did when he had been drinking a good deal. He was reddish purple. He had that queer look in his eyes. I can't say that it was a vacant look, but people who were close to him would say he was looking badly. I wouldn't have said that he had been drinking recently, not that morning. He might have been drinking the night before, but not heavily enough so that you couldn't do business with him.

I said, “Good morning,” walked over and shook hands with him.

He shook hands with me, but looked at me queerly.





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