Oh, dear. This book is chock full of delightful misogynism:
"Women are never kind," remarked Poirot. "Though they can be tender. She loves her husband?"
Never, Poirot? I'm pleased to hear that you have experience with every woman in the entire world and therefore can say with total confidence that precisely zero of them are kind. I wouldn't want to think that you were stereotyping. Or anything like that.
Also, how about this doozy from the good Dr. Larraby, who doesn't seem to encounter very many women of the non-silly variety:
"My dear fellow. I shouldn't pay any attention! The explanation is quite simple. The woman's at a certain time of life - craving for sensation, unbalanced, unreliable - might say anything. They do, you know!"
Hey, Dr. Larraby, the unbalanced female was just murdered with a fucking hatchet, so, you know, she might have had a point when she said that her dead brother suggested to her that someone might be trying to kill him. I dunno. Maybe? Or was the whole hacked-to-death-with-an-axe just part of her "craving for sensation?"