"Miss Climpson," said Lord Peter, "is a manifestation of the wasteful way in which this country is run. Look at electricity. Look at water-power. Look at the tides. Look at the sun. Millions of power units being given off into space every minute. Thousands of old maids, simply bursting with useful energy, forced by our stupid social system into hydros and hotels and communities and hostels and posts as companions, where their magnificient gossip-powers and units of inquisitiveness are allowed to dissipate themselves or even become harmful to the community, while ratepayers´ money is spent on getting work for which these women are providentially fitted, inefficiently carried out by ill-equipped policemen like you. My god! it´s enough to make a man write nasty little patronising books called Elderly Women, and On the Edge of Explosion - and the drunkards make songs about `em, poor things."