“A girl who loves you very dearly—who has been willing to lay down her life for you.” “How could I ask her?” muttered the boy. “After all that has happened, could I go to her and—Oh, what sort of a lame story could I tell?” “Les femmes—they have a wonderful genius for manufacturing crutches for stories like that.” “Yes, but—I’ve been such a damned fool.” “So have all of us, one time and another,” observed Poirot philosophically.
