the Ascending Room."

MISS LAWTON: "Oh, how amusing!"

MILLER, looking about: "This is a regular drawing-room for size and
luxury. They're usually such cribs in these hotels."

MRS. CRASHAW: "Yes, it's very nice, though I say it that shouldn't
of my niece's elevator. The worst about it is, it's so slow."

MILLER: "Let's hope it's sure."

YOUNG MR. BEMIS: "Some of these elevators in America go up like
express trains."

MRS. CURWEN, drawing her shawl about her shoulders, as if to be ready
to step out: "Well, I never get into one without taking my life in
my hand, and my heart in my mouth. I suppose every one really
expects an elevator to drop with them, some day, just as everybody
really expects to see a ghost some time."

MRS. CRASHAW: "Oh, my dear! what an extremely disagreeable subject
of conversation."

MRS. CURWEN: "I can't help it, Mrs. Crashaw. When I reflect that
there are two thousand elevators in Boston, and that the inspectors
have just pronounced a hundred and seventy of them unsafe, I'm so
desperate when I get into one that I could--flirt!"

MILLER, guarding himself with the fan: "Not with me?"