The splendid black satin skin of the South African Zulus of Durban seemed to me to come very close to perfection.

I can see those Zulus yet--'ricksha athletes waiting in front of the hotel for custom; handsome and intensely black creatures, moderately clothed in loose summer stuffs whose snowy whiteness made the black all the blacker by contrast.

Keeping that group in my mind, I can compare those complexions with the white ones which are streaming past this London window now: A lady.

Complexion, new parchment.

Another lady.