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Updated: July 7, 2025
"You took a great risk in allowing old Eb. to hold your purse. How he resisted an inclination to pocket it I can't for the life of me understand," said Desmond O'Connor. "Are there no other impossible men in Grey Town?" asked Sylvia Jackson. "I feel so exalted by my two successes that I would love to discover a really hardened woman-hater, and convert him to more humanitarian principles."
North was curious enough to ask his object. At this period of his existence, Stuart Ford troubled himself as little as any anchorite of the desert about the eternal feminine. It was not that he was more or less than a man, or in any sense that anomalous and impossible thing called a woman-hater.
'You know his ways, and he is so fond of you. Pray find him, and bring him home. You shall be liberally rewarded. We shall be deeply grateful, she added hastily, fearing she had offended by this suggestion of sordid recompense. 'I'll do my best, grumbled the woman-hater, 'when you've cleared off. I shan't stir till you're gone. 'I am going this instant, my horse is at the bottom of the Hanger.
"Old Hen" worked in a tin-shop, read Ruskin, regarded Debs as a prophet, received many papers devoted to socialism and the New Thought, and believed that he believed in no man, no God and no devil. Also he was a woman-hater, and though he never turned his head for a petticoat, preached free-love and bought many books which promised to tell him how to become a hypnotist.
"They told me," she said impressively, "that you were different a woman-hater, honest, gruff, a little cynical. Yet those are the speeches of your salad days. What a disenchantment!" "The things which one invents when one is young," he said, "come perhaps fresh from the heart in later life. The words may sound the same, but there is a difference." "Come," she said, "you are improving.
Your lady friends' wraps comes in handy sometimes. Don't niver despise 'em, Phil, nor the ladies nather. You woman-hater!" O'mie's laugh was like old times and very good to hear. "I flung that thing round me, hood on me brown curls, an' all, an' then I flew. I made the ground just three times in thim four blocks and a half to Judson's.
If only it could have stayed William instead of Bertram." "But it couldn't," smiled Billy. "It wasn't William that I loved." "But Bertram! it's so absurd." "Absurd!" The smile was gone now. "Yes. Forgive me, Billy, but I was about as much surprised to hear of Bertram's engagement as I was of Cyril's." Billy grew a little white. "But Bertram was never an avowed woman-hater, like Cyril, was he?"
"You don't know women as I know them, Boyd. You've got your experience to gain. Then you'll hold them in abhorrence just as I do. They call me a woman-hater," he grunted. "Perhaps I am for I've had cause to hold the feminine mind and the feminine passion equally in contempt." "Well," I laughed, "there's not a man in London who is more qualified to speak from personal experience than yourself.
And now, finally, in the procession that has filed past you, you have seen almost every imaginable form of love and lover, of husband and Lothario, or woman-hater. There have been cool-blooded bachelors like Händel, Schubert, and Brahms; there have been passionate pilgrims like Chopin, Beethoven, and Liszt, who loved many women, and married none.
'Though matches are all made in heaven, they say, Yet Hymen, who mischief oft hatches, Sometimes deals with the house t'other side of the way, And there they make Lucifer matches." "Oh, doctor! I'm afraid you are a woman-hater," said Mrs. Egan. "Come away, Fanny, I am sure they want to get rid of us."
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