My pride forbade me to ask any questions.
Poirot switched off on another tack.
"Mademoiselle Cynthia was not at lunch to-day? How was that?"
"She is at the hospital again. She resumed work to-day."
"Ah, she is an industrious little demoiselle. And pretty too.
She is like pictures I have seen in Italy. I would rather like
to see that dispensary of hers. Do you think she would show it
to me?"
"I am sure she would be delighted. It's an interesting little
place."
"Does she go there every day?"
"She has all Wednesdays off, and comes back to lunch on
Saturdays. Those are her only times off."
"I will remember. Women are doing great work nowadays, and
Mademoiselle Cynthia is clever--oh, yes, she has brains, that
little one."
"Yes. I believe she has passed quite a stiff exam."
"Without doubt. After all, it is very responsible work. I
suppose they have very strong poisons there?"
"Yes, she showed them to us. They are kept locked up in a little
cupboard. I believe they have to be very careful.
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