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I only like successful people. And you’ll find that’s true of nearly everybody—only most people won’t admit it. They just say that really they can’t put up with Mary or Emily or Pamela anymore!
“In my day we had our standards,” said Mrs. Allerton. “And a very good thing too! Nowadays young people seem to think they can just go about doing anything they choose.”
“Your own attitude, Madame. See you, this pursuit of you, you might take it in two ways, It might cause you annoyance—yes, or it might stir your pity—that your friend should have been so deeply hurt as to throw all regard for the conventions aside. But that is not the way you react. No, to you this persecution is intolerable—and why? It can be for one reason only—that you feel a sense of guilt.”
“Love is not everything, Mademoiselle,” Poirot said gently. “It is only when we are young that we think it is.”
“You’re on the wrong tack. Old Bessner’s one of the best, even though he is very German.”
“Because I am Hercule Poirot I do not need to be told.
“People say love justifies everything, but that is not true . . . Women who care for men as Jacqueline cares for Simon Doyle are very dangerous. It is what I said when I saw her first. ‘She cares too much, that little one!’ It is true.”
But after a while they stopped talking about her and discussed instead who was going to win the Grand National. For, as Mr. Ferguson was saying at that minute in Luxor, it is not the past that matters but the future.
