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Sinclair Lewis
Free Air
Published by Good Press, 2019
EAN 4057664639684
Table of Contents
CHAPTER I MISS BOLTWOOD OF BROOKLYN IS LOST IN THE MUD
CHAPTER II CLAIRE ESCAPES FROM RESPECTABILITY
CHAPTER III A YOUNG MAN IN A RAINCOAT
CHAPTER V RELEASE BRAKES—SHIFT TO THIRD
CHAPTER VI THE LAND OF BILLOWING CLOUDS
CHAPTER VII THE GREAT AMERICAN FRYING PAN
CHAPTER VIII THE DISCOVERY OF CANNED SHRIMPS AND HESPERIDES
CHAPTER IX THE MAN WITH AGATE EYES
CHAPTER X THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE HILLSIDE ROAD
CHAPTER XI SAGEBRUSH TOURISTS OF THE GREAT HIGHWAY
CHAPTER XII THE WONDERS OF NATURE WITH ALL MODERN IMPROVEMENTS
CHAPTER XIII ADVENTURERS BY FIRELIGHT
CHAPTER XIV THE BEAST OF THE CORRAL
CHAPTER XV THE BLACK DAY OF THE VOYAGE
CHAPTER XVI THE SPECTACLES OF AUTHORITY
CHAPTER XVII THE VAGABOND IN GREEN
CHAPTER XVIII THE FALLACY OF ROMANCE
CHAPTER XIX THE NIGHT OF ENDLESS PINES
CHAPTER XXI THE MINE OF LOST SOULS
CHAPTER XXII ACROSS THE ROOF OF THE WORLD
CHAPTER XXIII THE GRAEL IN A BACK YARD IN YAKIMA
CHAPTER XXV THE ABYSSINIAN PRINCE
CHAPTER XXVI A CLASS IN ENGINEERING AND OMELETS
CHAPTER XXVII THE VICIOUSNESS OF NICE THINGS
CHAPTER XXVIII THE MORNING COAT OF MR. HUDSON B. RIGGS
CHAPTER XXX THE VIRTUOUS PLOTTERS
CHAPTER XXXI THE KITCHEN INTIMATE
CHAPTER XXXII THE CORNFIELD ARISTOCRAT
CHAPTER XXXIV THE BEGINNING OF A STORY
FREE AIR
CHAPTER I
MISS BOLTWOOD OF BROOKLYN IS LOST IN THE MUD
When the windshield was closed it became so filmed with rain that Claire fancied she was piloting a drowned car in dim spaces under the sea. When it was open, drops jabbed into her eyes and chilled her cheeks. She was excited and thoroughly miserable. She realized that these Minnesota country roads had no respect for her polite experience on Long Island parkways. She felt like a woman, not like a driver.
But the Gomez-Dep roadster had seventy horsepower, and sang songs. Since she had left Minneapolis nothing had passed her. Back yonder a truck had tried to crowd her, and she had dropped into a ditch, climbed a bank, returned to the road, and after that the truck was not. Now she was regarding a view more splendid than mountains above a garden by the sea—a stretch of good road. To her passenger, her father, Claire chanted:
"Heavenly! There's some gravel. We can make time. We'll hustle on to the next town and get dry."
"Yes. But don't mind me. You're doing very well," her father sighed.
Instantly, the dismay of it rushing at her, she saw the end of the patch of gravel. The road ahead was a wet black smear, criss-crossed with ruts. The car shot into a morass of prairie gumbo—which is mud mixed with tar, fly-paper, fish glue, and well-chewed, chocolate-covered caramels. When cattle get into gumbo, the farmers send for the stump-dynamite and try blasting.
It was her first really bad stretch of road. She was frightened. Then she was too appallingly busy to be frightened, or to be Miss Claire Boltwood, or to comfort her uneasy father. She had to drive. Her frail graceful arms put into it a vicious vigor that was