He looked rather surprised, but got up, and presently came back with some papers in his hand, and threw them into her lap. “There. There’s one there that’s rather odd. It’s rotten poetry, but it gave me the oddest feelings when I wrote it. See if it does the same to you,” and he laughed. There were three poems in Elizabeth’s lap. The first was a vigorous bit of work—a ballad with a good ballad swing to it. Elizabeth read it and applauded. “This is much better than your old things,” she said, and he was manifestly pleased. The next was a set of clever verses on a political topic of passing interest. Elizabeth laughed over it and laid it aside. Her thoughts were pleasantly diverted. Anything was welcome that brought her nearer to the David of the day. She took up the third poem. It was called: Egypt Egypt sands are burning hot. Burning hot and dry, How they scorched us as we worked, Toiling, you and I, When we built the Pyramid in Egypt. Heaven like hammered brass above, Earth like brass below, How the sweat of torment ran, All those years ago, When we built the Pyramid in Egypt. When the dreadful day was done, Night was like your eyes, Sweet and cool and comforting— We were very wise, When we built the Pyramid in Egypt. We were very wise, my dear, Children, lovers, gods, Where’s the wisdom that we knew, With our world at odds, When we built the Pyramid in Egypt? Now your hand is strange to mine, Now you heed me not, Life and death and love and pain, You have quite forgot, You have quite forgotten me and Egypt. I would bear it all again, Just to take your hand, Bend my body to the whip, Tread the burning sand, Build another Pyramid in Egypt. Toiling, toiling, all the day, Loving you by night, I’d go back three thousand years If I only might,— Back to toil and pain and you and Egypt. When she looked up at the end, David spoke at once. “Well,” he said, “what does it say to you?” “I don’t quite know.” “It set up one of those curious thought-waves. One seems to remember something out of an extraordinarily distant past. Have you ever felt it? I believe most people have. There are all sorts of theories to account for it. The two sides of the brain working unequally, and several others. But the impression is common enough, and the theories have been made to fit it. Of course the one that fits most happily is the hopelessly unscientific one of reincarnation. Well, my thought-wave took me back to Egypt and——” He hesitated. “Tell me.” Elizabeth’s voice was eager. “Oh, nothing.” “Yes, tell me.” He laughed at her earnestness. “Well, then—I saw the woman’s eyes.” “Yes.” “They were grey. That’s all. And I thought it odd.”