battle-grounds of love and curiosity. For the Wenuses were gorgeous:
that is the sum of the matter.

Those who have never seen a living Wenus (there is a specimen in fairly
good spirits in the Natural History Museum) can scarcely imagine the
strange beauty of their appearance. The peculiar W-shaped mouth, the
incessant nictitation of the sinister eyelid, the naughty little twinkle
in the eye itself, the glistening glory of the arms, each terminating in
a fleshy digitated Handling Machine resembling more than anything else a
Number 6 glove inflated with air (these members, by the way, have since
been named rather aptly by that distinguished anatomist and original
dog, Professor Howes, the _hands_)--all combined to produce an effect
akin to stupefaction. I stood there ecstatic, unprogressive, immoderate;
while swiftly and surely ungovernable affection for all Wenuses gripped
me.

Meanwhile I heard inarticulate exclamations on all sides.

"Shameless hussies!" cried a woman near me.

"By Jove, that's something like!" said a young man who had been reading
Captain Coe's finals, swinging round towards the Crinoline, with one
foot arrested in mid-air.

My inclination when I recovered partial self-possession was to make
instantly for the Crinoline and avow my devotion and allegiance, but at
that moment I caught the eye of my wife, who had followed me to the
Park, and I hastily turned my back on the centre of attraction. I saw,
however, that Pendriver was using his spade to cleave his way to the
Wenuses; and Swears was standing on the brink of the pit transfixed with