“What if somebody does? Who'd care? The public can't think either, you see. They're like Pete, all they can see is effects. And, of course, the main chance. They love his effectiveness. And they admire him for succeeding. I'm not sure, myself, that he isn't on the way to becoming what they call a great man.”
CHAPTER XXXIX—A MOMENT OF MELODRAMA
T HEY wandered into the crowded lobby.
Friends were there from Greenwich Village. There was a high buzz of excitement. Jaded critics were smiling with pleasure; it was a relief, now and then, to be spared boredom. Peter had spared them.
Peter himself appeared, wearing his high hat—flushed, his eyes blazing, but unsmiling. He held a folded envelope against his shirt-front.
Acquaintances caught at him as he passed. One critic publicly congratulated him. It was an ovation; or it would have been had he responded. But he saw, out near the entrance, through the crowd, the face of Sue Wilde. He pressed through to her side.
“Sue,” he murmured in her ear. “I want to see you? How about to-morrow? Lunch with me perhaps? I've written something....”
His excited eyes wandered down to the paper in his hand.