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She
shrugged
her
shoulders
slightly
.
"
What
can
one
do
?
"
"
You
are
a
philosopher
,
Mademoiselle
.
"
"
That
implies
a
detached
attitude
.
I
think
my
attitude
is
more
selfish
.
I
have
learned
to
save
myself
useless
emotion
.
"
She
was
not
even
looking
at
him
.
Her
gaze
went
past
him
,
out
of
the
window
to
where
the
snow
lay
in
heavy
masses
.
"
You
are
a
strong
character
,
Mademoiselle
,
"
said
Poirot
gently
.
"
You
are
,
I
think
,
the
strongest
character
amongst
us
.
"
"
Oh
,
no
.
No
,
indeed
.
I
know
one
far
far
stronger
than
I
am
.
"
"
And
that
is
--
?
"
She
seemed
suddenly
to
come
to
herself
,
to
realize
that
she
was
talking
to
a
stranger
and
a
foreigner
with
whom
,
until
this
morning
,
she
had
only
exchanged
half
a
dozen
sentences
.
