ABSTRACT
Can you imagine language, once clear-cut and exact, softening and guttering, losing shape and import, becoming mere lumps of sound again? And they walked erect with increasing difficulty. Though they evidently felt ashamed of themselves, every now and then I would come upon one or other running on toes and fingertips, and quite unable to recover the vertical attitude. They held things more clumsily; drinking by suction, feeding by gnawing, grew commoner every day. I realised more keenly than ever what Moreau had told me about the “stubborn beast flesh”. They were reverting and reverting rapidly.
