“My dear Poirot, it's not for me to dictate to you. You have a right to your own opinion, just as I have mine.”

“Poirot was standing in the larder in a dramtic attitude. In his hand he was brandishing a leg of mutton.'My dear Poirot! What is the matter? have you gone mad?''Regard i pray you this mutton! But regard it closely!”

“What's wrong with my proposition?" Poirot rose. "If you will forgive me for being personal-I do not like your face, M. Ratchett.”

“No, my friend, I am not drunk. I have just been to the dentist, and need not return for another six months! Is it not the most beautiful thought?--Poirot”

“Poirot," I said. "I have been thinking.""An admirable exercise my friend. Continue it.”

“You're a man milliner, Poirot. I never notice what people have on.""You should join a nudist colony”

“You weren't quite accurate just now." "I? Not accurate?" Poirot sounded affronted.”