Myra Gardener:
Well, what the hell do we do now, Odell?
Odell Gardener:
Leave it to me. I'll think of something.
Myra Gardener:
Hmmph, my hero. I swear, if you were a man I would divorce you.
Myra Gardener:
There she goes, not a care in the world.
Odell Gardener:
I'll make her care.
Myra Gardener:
Oh, what do you know about care? If it had been up to you, the good Samaritan would have passed by on the other side.
Odell Gardener:
I have an idea but I need to work it out.
Myra Gardener:
Yeah, well don't forget about my cousin, Hatty Heimenheimer. It took her so long to "work out an idea," they finally had to stash her away in the booby hatch!
Daphne Castle:
I've just had a telephone call from your friend Sir Horace. He says he's having trouble with his... his... his piffle valve?
Poirot:
Such a valve still has to be invented, Madame.
Daphne Castle:
Oh, well I dare say you're right, I wasn't paying that much attention, anyway the result is he'll be 24 hours late.
Daphne Castle:
Arlena and I were in the chorus of a show together, not that I could ever compete. Even in those days, she could always throw her legs up in the air higher than any of us... and wider.
Mr. Flewitt's Secretary:
Hercules Parrot, sir!
Poirot:
[
entering the office] Poirot, Mademoiselle, pucker your lips as though about to bestow a kiss! Poi-rot.
Christine Redfern:
I'm better now. In fact, I'm determined to enjoy myself. It's so blissful here, so tranquil, so far from all violence and trouble.
Poirot:
Yes, you are right, Madame; the sky is blue, the sun is shining, and yet you forget that everywhere there is evil under the sun.
Daphne Castle:
Couldn't we make this a private investigation? You know how peculiar people can be about a spot of murder.
Arlena Stuart Marshall:
[
to Linda Marshall] Linda do stop standing there like a coughdrop and say good morning to Monsieur Poirot!
Patrick Redfern:
It's funny to think if Giuseppe Verdi had been an Englishman his name would have been Joe Green.
Poirot:
[
Thoughtfully] Yes, I suppose it would, yes.
Patrick Redfern:
Well it used to make the boys laugh when I was trying to din some Latin into them when I was a school teacher.
Poirot:
Little boys laugh easily if it keeps them away even for a moment from their study of Latin.
Poirot:
The "Arlena Stewarts" of this world do not count; their domination is of the moment. Really to count, a woman must have either goodness or brains.
Christine Redfern:
You can't actually believe that men care for either of those things, can you?
Poirot:
Oh yes I do, madam.
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