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But Eleanor wasn’t the light, witty

type he’d been expected to marry. Just

the opposite: she was slow to laugh,

bored by small talk, serious-minded,

shy. Her mother, a fine-boned, vivacious

aristocrat, had nicknamed her

“Granny” because of her demeanor. Her

father, the charming and popular

younger brother of Theodore Roosevelt,

doted on her when he saw her, but he

was drunk most of the time, and died

when Eleanor was nine. By the time

Eleanor met Franklin, she couldn’t believe

that someone like him would be

interested in her. Franklin was

everything that she was not: bold and

buoyant, with a wide, irrepressible

grin, as easy with people as she was

cautious. “He was young and gay and

good looking,” Eleanor recalled, “and I

was shy and awkward and thrilled

when he asked me to dance.”

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