Two aides eased Eleanor from her bedroom to an armchair in the study. On the air-conditioner behind her rested a folded American flag, of the kind presented to veterans’ spouses at their funerals. “What I was trying to say is, it isn’t the God that some people imagine, but it is my God.” She had been furious when the aides told her that she couldn’t get up, for fear of a fall. Based on the aide’s description, Chang had expected Eleanor to be terse and withdrawn, but she wanted to talk.