She was generally a logical sort, but this was inexplicable: why did she toil and sacrifice at Swanstone and live in a spider-filled attic? Altruism? The toilets here had contraptions that washed one's undercarriage. A French import. There was simply no way Swanstone had those. That was what altruism got you: spiders in your arsehole

I LOVE this book. It's not perfect, but when it delivers, it really delivers.