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The discussion risks becoming an otiose diversion.
Sus, revenons à ces moutons!
It isn't given us to know those rare moments when people are wide open and the lightest touch can wither or heal. A moment too late and we can never reach them any more in this world.
'Aha!' said Poirot, his forefinger raised in exclamation.
"But please, Herr Ventilhorn, who has said that the person in question is a gentleman? Not Poirot" he pouted, and turning to Hastings 'that is certain, eh mon ami?'
Poirot appeared agitated, tapping his hand lightly against his temple, murmuring about 'the little grey cells'.
Suddenly he span round and pointed at Ventilhorn "But you know, Herr Ventilhorn! You know it is a gentleman because ... it is YOU! "
, Ventilhorn blenched.
"Or should I call you Herr Hornspieler?" said Poirot, his eyes ablaze in triumph.
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
Are you sure you're all right ff - the weather is a bit hot?
It's just that a couple of days ago you were telling us that you're going to rename your pipe (??). Today, you're telling Sue her lunch break is over and you've got more sheep-shearing to do(??).
Are you sure you're all right ff - the weather is a bit hot?
It's just that a couple of days ago you were telling us that you're going to rename your pipe (??). Today, you're telling Sue her lunch break is over and you've got more sheep-shearing to do(??).
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