Agatha Christie

I don’t know what pos­sessed me. Her beauty, per­haps, as she sat there, with the sun­light glint­ing down on her head; per­haps the sense of re­lief at en­coun­ter­ing someone who so ob­vi­ously could have no con­nec­tion with the tragedy; per­haps hon­est pity for her youth and loneli­ness.

“Man is a vain animal.

“Your idea of a woman is some one who gets on a chair and shrieks if she sees a mouse.

Man is an unoriginal animal.

“Mon ami, you must make your own deductions. You have ‘access to the facts!’ Concentrate your grey cells.

A good intelligence—and so deplorably lacking in method. There is an exercise most excellent for the development of the little grey cells. I will impart it to you—”

whom will a woman lie? Sometimes for herself, usually for the man she loves, always for her children.

“Let me see, was that the old lady who was poisoned?

'There! Now we're friends!' declared the minx. 'Say you're sorry about my sister--'

'I am desolated!'

'That's a good boy!'

An extraordinary little man! Height, five feet four inches, egg-shaped head carried a little to one side, eyes that shone green when he was excited, stiff military moustache, air of dignity immense!

He was neat and dandified in appearance. For neatness of any kind he had an absolute passion. To see an ornament set crookedly, or a speck of dust, or a slight disarray in one's attire, was torture to the little man until he could ease his feelings by remedying the matter.