Death On The Nile

People do brood over bygone wrongs sometimes.

The hand that clasped hers was firm and warm…She liked the way he looked at her, the naïve genuine admiration.

Jackie had told him she was wonderful, and he clearly thought that she was wonderful….

A warm sweet feeling of intoxication ran through her veins.

How absurd to call youth the time of happiness—youth, the time of greatest vulnerability!

“How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work in order to escape the strain of having to think.”

I know I’m mad, darling, but I can’t help it. Marriage will cure me, I expect.

“You are of the Church of England, I presume?”

“Yes.” Linnet looked slightly bewildered.

“Then you have heard portions of the Bible read aloud in church. You have heard of King David and of the rich man who had many flocks and herds and the poor man who had one ewe lamb—and of how the rich man took the poor man’s one ewe lamb. That was something that happened, Madame.”

Poirot said solemnly, “I am delighted to learn that you have no guilty secret to hide.”

Just for a moment the sulky mask of her face was transformed as she shot him a swift questioning glance.

“—it enchants me,” he was saying. “The black rocks of Elephantine, and the sun, and the little boats on the river. Yes, it is good to be alive.”

If he’d married Linnet for her money, that would be true. But he didn’t marry her for her money. It’s more complicated than that. There’s such a thing as glamour, Monsieur Poirot. And money helps that.

Simon Doyle knows nothing whatever of his wife’s affairs except that she was a rich woman