"Your own attitude, Madame.
See you, this pursuit of you, you might take it in two ways.
It might cause you annoyance - yes, or it might stir your pity - that your friend should have been so deeply hurt as to throw all regards for the conventions aside.
But that is not the way you react.
No, to you this persecution is intolerable - and why?
It can be for one reason only - that you feel a sense of guilt."
Linnet sprang to her feet.
"How dare you?
Really, Monsieur Poirot, this is going too far."
"But I do dare, Madame!
I am going to speak to you quite frankly.
I suggest to you that, although you may have endeavoured to gloss over the fact to yourself, you did deliberately set about taking your husband from your friend.
I suggest that you felt strongly attracted to him at once.
But I suggest that there was a moment when you hesitated, when you realized that there was a choice - that you could refrain or go on.
I suggest that the initiative rested with you - not with Monsieur Doyle.
You are beautiful, Madame; you are rich; you are clever, intelligent - and you have charm.
You could have exercised that charm or you could have restrained it.
You had everything, Madame, that life can offer.
Your friend's life was bound up in one person.
You knew that, but, though you hesitated, you did not hold your hand.
You stretched it out and, like the rich man in the Bible, you took the poor man's one ewe lamb."
There was a silence.
Linnet controlled herself with an effort and said in a cold voice,
"All this is quite beside the point!"
"No, it is not beside the point.
I am explaining to you just why the unexpected appearances of Mademoiselle de Bellefort have upset you so much.
It is because, though she may be unwomanly and undignified in what she is doing, you have the inner conviction that she has right on her side."
"That's not true!"
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"You refuse to be honest with yourself."
"Not at all."
Poirot said gently, "I should say, Madame, that you have had a happy life, that you have been generous and kindly in your attitude toward others."
"I have tried to be," said Linnet.
The impatient anger died out of her face. She spoke simply - almost forlornly.
"And that is why the feeling that you have deliberately caused injury to someone upsets you so much, and why you are so reluctant to admit the fact.
Pardon me if I have been impertinent, but the psychology, it is the most important fact in a case."
Linnet said slowly: "Even supposing what you say were true - and I don't admit it, mind - what can be done about it now?
One can't alter the past; one must deal with things as they are."
Poirot nodded.
"You have the clear brain.
Yes, one cannot go back over the past.
One must accept things as they are.
And sometimes, Madame, that is all one can do - accept the consequences of one's past deeds."
"You mean," asked Linnet incredulously, "that I can do nothing - nothing?"
"You must have courage, Madame; that is what it seems like to me."
Linnet said slowly: "Couldn't you - talk to Jackie - to Miss de Bellefort?
Reason with her?"
"Yes, I could do that.
I will do that if you would like me to do so.
But do not expect much result.