ways could Bradley not twist his client[18] and protégé into predicaments that would bring him profit?

[18]

When Clifford regained his table, Uncle George regarded him with amazement. “I thought you had gone!”

“Gone where?”

“With or after Miss Regan.”

“Why?”

“I thought you were—well, I guess you get me. That being the case, I didn’t think you’d pass up the chance to be with her.”

Clifford hesitated, then spoke the truth: “The last time I saw Mary Regan, I promised not to speak to her until she sent for me.”

“And it was your promise that stopped you?” Uncle George asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“You poor simp! I suppose you thought she’d be thinking of you, only you, with you out of her sight for six months—and that then there’d come a sweet little message like them they flash on the movie screens!”

Clifford did not reply. Uncle George had very nearly expressed his thought.

“No woman ever lived that could keep thinking of one man for six months, and him away!” Uncle George leaned closer, and spoke in a low voice. “See here, son,—while you’ve been keeping your promise and remaining strictly off the premises, what do you think the other people have been doing?”

[19]“What other people?” cried Clifford, in quick alarm.

[19]

Uncle George ignored the question. “You think you’ve been an influence upon her. Mebbe so, son. Mebbe so. But she was twenty, and two or three more, before you ever saw her. Don’t you think those twenty years might have some influence with her, too?”

“What other people?” repeated Clifford.

Again Uncle George ignored the question. He looked at Clifford keenly, and spoke slowly.

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