A Proper Pursuit Read Online Free PDF

fingertips for a dainty shake.
    “Violet Hayes.” I hated my name the moment I spoke it. Violet . It sounded old-fashioned and as limp as velvet. I longed for a more dramatic name and decided that I would change it when I arrived in Chicago. I would introduce myself as Athena or Artemesia or maybe Anastasia. “How do you do, Mr. McClure?”
    “I do just fine… . Say, don’t tell me, let me guess—I’ll wager you’re going to Chicago to see the fair. Am I right?”
    “Um … yes. Are you going as well?”
    “I’ve already seen it—three times, in fact. But I’m going again, first chance I get.” He propped one foot on the seat that faced mine and folded his arms on his raised knee. “The fair is really swell. I could give you some pointers—what to see and what’s a waste of time—if you want me to.”
    Before I could reply, he dropped his leg and slid into the seat facing me, perching on the very edge so that our knees were practically touching. His manners were outrageous! I imagined Madame Beauchamps flapping her hands as if shooing away pigeons and saying, “No, no, no, Miss Hayes! You must never, never accept advances from such a creature.” Anyone unsavory was a creature to Madame B.
    But in the next moment, I found myself wondering whether to believe Madame or not. If my father had lied to me my entire life, why should I obey anything else I’d been taught? Anger swelled inside me, making it difficult to speak. I had felt it growing in strength since the night I’d first learned about Maude and about my mother, slowly rising and expanding like bread dough in a warming oven. The more I thought about the wedding, the deplorable stepchildren, and my father’s lies, the more I wanted to punch something the way Mrs. Hutchins punched the rising bread dough so she could shape it into loaves.
    The safe cocoon in which I’d been wrapped all my life suddenly felt suffocating. Madame had taught me to be a proper young lady, demure and sedate, but beneath the surface I longed to fly as freely as a butterfly, to do something bold and daring. I scooped up my satchel and placed it on my lap to make room for Mr. McClure on the seat beside me. I even patted the cushion lightly, beckoning him to sit there.
    “I would love to hear all about the fair. But please, tell me all about yourself first, Mr. McClure.”
    “Well, I’m a drummer, as you can probably guess,” he said, dropping into the seat. “I sell Dr. Dean’s Blood Builder—a nutritive tonic.”
    “Is it really made from blood ?”
    “No,” he said, laughing. “Our specially patented formula is made from the highest-quality beef extract, fortified with iron and celery root. If you’re suffering from extreme exhaustion, brain fatigue, debility of any kind, blood disorders, or anemia, our Blood Builder will enrich your blood and help your body throw off accumulated humors of all kinds. It’s guaranteed to stimulate digestion and improve blood flow, or we’ll give you your money back. Why, we have testimonials from thousands of satisfied customers, people who’ve suffered all sorts of maladies from nervous exhaustion and weakness to general debilitation. You can find inferior goods anywhere, these days—at twice the price of our tonic, I might add. But only Dr. Dean’s Blood Builder offers a thirty-day money-back guarantee. You should try it, Miss Hayes. I’ll wager you’ll feel renewed, or I’ll refund your money.”
    “Your presentation is quite convincing, Mr. McClure. Do you use the tonic yourself?”
    “Of course.”
    He did appear unusually healthy and robust, and so filled with energy that he could scarcely stay in his seat. Hoards of army ants might have been crawling up his pant legs. I wasn’t sure I wanted to have that much vigor. I imagined it would feel quite uncomfortable to be so energetic—and completely unladylike.
    “Do you enjoy the life of a traveling salesman, Mr. McClure?”
    “Oh, I love riding the rails.