the rarest point of perfection while dispensing entirely with the hook.
The bare idea of this is no doubt terribly repulsive to us, but at the
same time I think we should remember how indescribably repulsive our
sartorial habits must seem to an intelligent armadillo.

Of the peculiar coralline tint of the Wenuses' complexion, I think I
have already spoken. That it was developed by their indulgence in the
Red Weed has been, I think, satisfactorily proved by the researches of
Dr. Moreau, who also shows that the visual range of their eyes was much
the same as ours, except that blue and yellow were alike to them. Moreau
established this by a very pretty experiment with a Yellow Book and a
Blue Book, each of which elicited exactly the same remark, a curious
hooting sound, strangely resembling the _ut de poitrine_ of one of
Professor Garner's gorillas.

After concluding their repast, the Wenuses, still unaware of my patient
scrutiny, extracted, with the aid of their glittering tintackles, a
large packet of Red Weed from a quasi-marsupial pouch in the roof of the
Crinoline, and in an incredibly short space of time had rolled its
carmine tendrils into slim cylinders, and inserted them within their
lips. The external ends suddenly ignited as though by spontaneous
combustion; but in reality that result was effected by the simple
process of deflecting the optic ray. Clouds of roseate vapour, ascending
to the dome of the canopy, partially obscured the sumptuous contours of
these celestial invaders; while a soft crooning sound, indicative of
utter contentment, or as Professor Nestlé of the Milky Ray has more
prosaically explained it, due to expiration of air preparatory to the
suctional operation involved in the use of the Red Weed, added an
indescribable glamour to the enchantment of the scene.