There is no fireplace, and I am perplexed by that until I find a thermometer beside six switches on the wall.

Above this switchboard is a brief instruction: one switch warms the floor, which is not carpeted, but covered by a substance like soft oilcloth; one warms the mattress (which is of metal with resistance coils threaded to and fro in it); and the others warm the wall in various degrees, each directing current through a separate system of resistances.

The casement does not open, but above, flush with the ceiling, a noiseless rapid fan pumps air out of the room.
The air enters by a Tobin shaft.
"There is a recess dressing-room, equipped with a bath and all that is necessary to one's toilet; and the water, one remarks, is warmed, if one desires it warm, by passing it through an electrically-heated spiral of tubing.

A cake of soap drops out of a store-machine on the turn of a handle, and when you have done with it, you drop that and your soiled towels, etc., which are also given you by machines, into a little box, through the bottom of which they drop at once and sail down a smooth shaft.

[Better stay in the box and not infect the shaft .-- Author.] "A little notice tells you the price of the room, and you gather the price is doubled if you do not leave the toilet as you find it.