I come back to this a lot, a favorite for the writing, and a reminder that imperialism and racism are sweet poison of the time - that it's easy to fall into the beautiful words, and ignore the utter callous horror of that neutral shunning voice. The claim that some people aren't people, that some are dirty, that some are better.

This is probably the best example - especially in The White Seal - of Kipling just being godsawful toxic while loving their subject matter and embracing their words.