"There has been a very strong effort to pass sumptuary laws in Ohio and Georgia and Maine and Kansas, but they have generally proved inoperative," answered Macfarren. Seeing, however, his companion's puzzled look, he hastened forward and said, "Ah! there is the elevator." Mrs. Van Tromp had preceded them, and stood by the door. As Marian and Macfarren approached, the former gave her a look of unmistakable disdain, which, to Macfarren's horror, was supplemented by a command given in a clear and self-possessed voice: "Give place, madam." Mrs. Van Tromp made no reply, but glanced, stupefied for a moment, at Macfarren, who turned pale and then red. A flush rose to her face, and, without replying, she turned half around from Marian and rang the bell again. The elevator then appeared at the top of the opening, and slowly descended. Marian's look of scorn and disdain gradually changed to one of genuine alarm. She clutched Macfarren nervously by the arm. Her breath came in short, quick gasps, and as the elevator boy threw the sliding door open she almost shrieked. Mrs. Van Tromp, without noticing either Macfarren or his companion, calm as if nothing out of the common run had occurred, stepped in and began coolly arranging a stray lock of her hair before the mirrors with which the elevator was lined. The boy waited, the rope in his hand, looking impatiently at Macfarren. A lucky idea flew into Macfarren's mind. "If you don't get in, she'll think you are afraid," he whispered. The effect was magical. Marian raised her lovely, proud head and stepped gingerly in, the boy shut the door with a loud whack, and, with a vicious pull at the rope, they began to descend. Macfarren saw, however, by the tightly compressed lips and the hands fiercely clinched to prevent their trembling, that Marian was suffering all the tortures of a proud soul in a paroxysm of fear. Surreptitiously he saw her make the sign of the cross on her breast. He dared not address Mrs. Van Tromp, who, though blandness itself in her air and countenance, yet, indicated dangerous possibilities; so to all three the ride was uncomfortable and the atmosphere surcharged with electricity. The elevator stopped at the door of the dining-room. This opened on a broad, square corridor, red-carpeted, the lofty ceiling and walls elaborately frescoed. The dining-room itself was a noble apartment, seating five hundred persons, blazing from end to end with crystal chandeliers which were reflected in great mirrors placed at intervals. It was full of that subtile flavor of luxury peculiar to the best American hotels. The broad doorway, with its folding leaves wide open, was guarded by a magnificent person who looked like a major-general in plain clothes, but who was really the head waiter; and from within this huge doorway poured a flood of warm light, of soft chatter, of delicious and enticing odors.