Hoof Beats 



Her hair was as black as Trotter's was light. 

 Her coloring was deep, too, and her eyes big and 

 expressive. In a habit there was no one in the 

 field could approach her. 



Some days later I saw her again. Met her on 

 the soft road at the edge of the woods exercising 

 her gray mare. We rode along together for a 

 while without saying much. Alice and I knew 

 each other too well to have to talk. 



Finally she turned to me with a queer expres- 

 sion as if she wanted to say something, but was a 

 trifle embarrassed or timid about beginning. It 

 wasn't at all like Alice. 



"Let's have it," I smiled, trying to give her a 

 lead and help her over. 



"Joe," she began, "did you ever, ever meet 

 people you'd known — before. " 

 That puzzled me. 



"What are you driving at, Alice — ever meet 

 people I'd known before? Why certainly, every 

 day." 



She shook her head. 



"You don't understand. I mean known, 

 known a very long time ago, in some other life 

 or — something . " 



"Why, Alice," I exclaimed, "you surely don't 

 believe in that sort of — " 

 154 



