Well, I've had to be. "We're all damaged—we've all got broken pates," cried a dozen voices. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. ‘She may well try to go back. "What the devil makes you out so late? And what has happened to you, man, eh?—you seem in a queer plight. “So, just how many foster homes were you in before the coming to live here?” “You don’t want to hear about all of that, Michelle. ‘And so?’ she asked. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. "What shall we do, Poll?" hesitated Edgeworth Bess. She stood, as it were, directed doorward, with her eyes watching every movement, listening to him, repelled by him and yet dimly understanding.
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