It was cold and windy out at Golden Gate Park but Mike did not notice it and Jill had learned that she didn't have to be cold or uncomfortable if she did not wish it.  Nevertheless it was pleasant to relax her control by going into the warm monkey house.  Aside from its heat Jill did not like the monkey house too well - monkeys and apes were too much like people, too depressingly human.  She was, she thought, finished forever with any sort of prissiness; she had grown to cherish an ascetic, almost Martian joy in all things physical The public copulations and evacuations of these simian prisoners did not trouble her as they once had; these poor penned people possessed no privacy, they were not at fault.  She could now watch such without repugnance; her own impregnable fastidiousness untouched.  No, it was that they were "Human, All Too Human", every action, every expression, every puzzled troubled look reminded her of what she liked least about her own race.