Well, that's one fact about him--that his _men_ friends feel they could no more torment a wounded soldier, than worry Buntingford--if they could help it.

Then there are other facts that no one knows unless they've worked in Philip's office, where all the men clerks and all the women typists just adore him! I happen to know a good deal about it.

I could tell you things--" "For Heaven's sake, don't!" cried Helena impatiently.

"What does it matter?
He may be a saint--with seven haloes--for those that don't cross him.

But _I_ want my freedom!"-- a white foot beat the ground impatiently--"and he stands in the way." "Freedom to compromise yourself with a scoundrel like Donald! What _can_ you know about such a man--compared with what Philip knows ?" "That's just it--I _want_ to know--" said Helena in her most stubborn voice.