Death in High Provence Quotes

“flies humming about the place in different keys, like a symphony from a minute orchestra.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“since I, too, am a Catholic. You, I take it, are of the Church of England or one of the score of diverse denominations for which your country is so notorious...”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“122 bis, Boulevard Gassendi was a third-rate tenement over a seedy wine shop, and was entered by a narrow door which gave access to a shabby staircase leading to the flats.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“You’re getting impertinent, Littlejohn. We have a way of dealing with impertinent officials.” “Not with me, sir. Kindly remember that.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“That woman, the wife of the village policeman, is afraid you will find out how much she spends, so she withdraws until you have left. She is a secret eater of chocolate, which she buys from the housekeeping money her husband gives her. And then she takes cheap rancid ham and stale cheese and tells her husband it’s my fault. He ought to beat her.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“The bath itself was of the old-fashioned variety, made of enamelled tin, and filled from many large jugs. Littlejohn was obliged to bathe himself by instalments, for it was impossible to sit properly in it, and his contortions were in the nature of early-morning Swedish drill.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“The mayor straightened his tie again, and then took out a pocket mirror and a comb, and with their help combed his moustache”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“Marie Alivon was waiting for them in the bar. “You like the room?” “Yes. We’ll stay, Madame Alivon.” She did not ask for how long. Hers seemed to be a slow, grave wisdom which took things as they came.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“A large double bed, with a huge red feather quilt and large square pillows. The Littlejohns tested its resilience with their hands. It emitted the scent of lavender and straw and clean linen.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“Well?” “Well?” Littlejohn and his wife smiled at one another. It seemed to be an afternoon of quiet smiling, as though, somehow, the placid atmosphere had made everyone good-tempered and placid, too.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence

“A few large olive trees struggled for life near the roadside, their twisted roots seeming to explore the hard, caked soil in search of a little water.”
― George Bellairs, Death in High Provence