h as consulting you, when she has forced you to
take stern measures to bring her to her senses--only to turn up, after
all, radiant, just where you have stolen to be alone with your otherwise
turbulent emotions--well, it may easily be disturbing.

The other man, on this occasion, was the Worm.

Peter knew that the Worm, like Hy, had disapproved of the steps he had
taken to waken the truffling Sue to a sense of duty, the steps he had
been forced to take. It is not pleasant to be disapproved of by old
companions; particularly when you were so clearly, scrupulously right in
all you have done. Still more unpleasant is it when one of the
disapprovers appears with the girl whose selfish irresponsibility caused
all the trouble. Sue's evident happiness was the climax. It seemed to
Peter that she might at least have the decency to look--well, chastened.

I spoke a moment back of other disturbances within Peter's highly
temperamental breast. They had to do with the play. The featured
actress, Grace Derring, also was potentially a disturber. If you have
followed Peter's emotionally tortuous career, you will recall Grace.
With his kisses warm on her lips, protesting her love for him, she had
rewritten his play behind his back, tearing it to pieces, introducing
new and quite false episodes, altering the very natures of his
painstakingly wrought out characters, obliterating whatever of himself
had, at the start, been in the piece. He had been forced to wash his
hands of the whole thing. He had kept away from Neuerman and
Grace Derring all these painful months. He had answered neither
Neuerman's business letters nor Grace's one or two guarded little notes.
It had perturbed turn to see his name used lavishly (Neuerman was
a persistent and powerful advertiser) on the bill-boards and in the
papers. It had perturbed him to-night to see it on the street in blazing
light. And now it was on the program in his hand!... To be sure he had
not taken steps to prevent this use of his name. He had explained to
himself that Neuerman had the r