“Every man I hate except you—I have hated every man, even my father who sold me. I have heard only evil of them and I hate them all.” And he said wondering, “Now I should have said you had lived quietly and easily in my courts.” “I am filled with loathing,” she said, looking away, “I am filled with loathing and I hate them all. I hate all young men.” And she would say nothing more, and he mused on it, and he did not know whether Lotus had filled her with tales of her life and had threatened her, or whether Cuckoo had frightened her with lewdness, or whether something had befallen her secretly
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