aying his hand upon one of them. He rather mumbled the name,
and I think none of us were able to recognize it.

"Indeed!" said the Skeptic, and laid his hand upon the column. "It
seems stout."

"It's the same that is used in the Royal Palace at Athens," added
the Promoter.

"That must be why it feels so Greece-y to the touch," murmured the
Skeptic; but, luckily, nobody heard him but myself.

In due course of time, proceeding across a gorgeous lobby and traversing
an impressive corridor, passing lackeys in livery and guests in evening
finery, we arrived at the doorway of the most elaborately ornate dining
hall I had ever seen. The Promoter paused in the doorway to let the
first impression sink in.

"I could have had our dinner served in a private dining-room, of
course," said he to us, "but Althea and I decided that you would enjoy
this better. There's nothing like it anywhere. It's absolutely
cosmopolitan. People from all over the world are dining here
to-night--are every night. Every tenth man is worth his millions. Notice
the third table on the right as we go by. That's Joseph L. Chrysler, the
iron magnate. With his party is a French actress--worshipped on both
sides the water. Keep your eyes peeled."

A bowing potentate motioned us forward. A bending waiter put us in our
places. Orchids decorated our table. An extraordinarily expensive
orchestra celebrated our arrival with strains from a popular opera then
raging. People all around glanced at us and immediately away again. I
suppose we showed by our appearance that we were the possessors neither
of millions nor of world-renowned accomplishments.

The Promoter leaned back in his chair with the demeanour of a large and
puffy young frog on the edge of a pool. He settled his white waistcoat
and looked from side to side with the superior glance of a man who owns
the whole thing. Althea, in her place, also wore a self-conscious air of
being hostess to a party which must appreciate the privilege of dining
under such auspices.

Our table was a circular one, and the Skeptic sat upon my right. The
Promoter at my left occupied himself with Hepatica much of the
time--Hepatica had never looked lovelier than to-night, though her
simple, white evening frock was not cut half so low as Althea's pink,
embroidered one, nor cost half so much as my plain pale-gray. Althea
devoted herself to the Philosopher--she and the Skeptic had never got on
very well. Meanwhile the Skeptic w